Worth It
by BarracudaHeart
Summary: Various oneshots and drabbles focusing on Lars and Ronaldo. One drabble per chapter, ratings may vary. Will have different AUs, timelines, and prompts.
1. Household Chores

**I've decided to write some drabbles of Lars and Ronaldo, I'm doing various prompts, aus, and the like! I don't know how many of these I'll do (probably until I get bored, haha), but enjoy!**

* * *

 **Household Chores**

* * *

"Took you long enough to answer the door!", Ronaldo chirped as he was greeted by a surly face at the door.

"Yeah yeah," Lars muttered, peeling what looked like a candy wrapper off of his shirt, "I tripped over shit in my room so it took me a sec to get downstairs. So, uh, what are we doing again?"

"I told you last night! All of 'Axeart On-Air' season one is on SushiRoll! We're going to watch it together!"

"Is this the one with the actually good animation, or the one with the big anime titties?", Lars asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Both are present in this series. If season two was available, you'd see how much they improve on both," Ronaldo smiled, pushing his glasses up onto his nose.

"Aight," Lars rolled his shoulders and stood up straight again, "Lemme grab my laptop, and we'll watch it in my room," and held the door open so the other could step inside, taking off his sandals, and putting on the slippers Lars handed him, since his family had some pretty strict rules about shoes and bare feet in the house.

Heading up the stairs, Lars casually strolled into his room without batting an eye, Ronaldo following a couple feet behind, talking about something that Lars was starting to zone out of, but was snapped back to attention when his friend gave a shocked yelp, "Heavens to Murgatroyd! What the hell happened to your room?"

Lars' room looked like it had been host to a sinkhole's deposit, junk littering the floor; garbage, clothes, pets (Maybe?), half eaten food, game cartridges, blankets, tissues (Ronaldo was not going to ask why), sketchbooks, pencils, CDs, and various crap covering every inch of carpet. Even his desk was cluttered with electronics, books, art utensils, more half eaten snacks, garbage, and his pet snake's tank.

Lars looked at his dwelling for a whopping three seconds, and shrugged, "Eh?"

"Lars, this place is filthy!", Ronaldo exclaimed, almost horrified.

"It's not that bad," Lars rolled his eyes, "Everything's where I can see it."

"Nobody wants to see your _jizz tissues_!"

"I had a cold last week, Ron! That's gross!", Lars grimaced.

"Not as gross as your floor! I'm not watching anime in this landfill," Ronaldo muttered, still looking at everything.

"Well fine then! We can watch it in my living room," Lars huffed, about to walk out the door when Ronaldo blocked him with his arm.

"No. We're not watching anything now," he declared, "Not with a mess like this inhabiting your abode!"

"Ronnie, c'mon, I don't wanna deal with it! Besides, this place screams _me_!"

"Is it because it smells like ass?"

" _You're_ an ass!"

Ronaldo then grinned, "I'm not leaving until your room is clean."

"Since when have you cared about clean? Your room's as bad as mine," Lars countered.

"My room doesn't have half eaten food and garbage everywhere."

"Those freaky body pillows you have scream different~" Lars singsonged, fake coughing.

"Those are _collectibles_!", Ronaldo looked genuinely offended for a moment, then pointed to Lars' bed, "Strip the sheets, and gather all your clothes to wash, and I'm going to go grab cleaning supplies."

"Uh, what for?"

"I'm not touching all that trash!"

"Can't we deal with this later, and just watch the anime already?", Lars whined.

"Anime can wait," Ronaldo spoke, a first in his lifetime, and headed out of the room, "And if you bail on me, we won't watch it at all," he called out as he walked away.

"Uggggh!", Lars grumbled, and yanked his admittedly grimy sheets off the mattress, rolling them into a ball, and chucking them into his hamper. He swiped at the floor, peeling his scattered socks and underwear off the carpet, and jammed them in, followed by his sweat-stenched shirts and some wrinkled jeans. On accident, he nearly pulled his cat, Ham, off of the floor, and was met by an irritated yowl, "Sorry, Hammy!", he yelped, giving 'his baby' a kitty kiss (it wasn't like Ronaldo would see it), and put him in the hallway. He'd not even noticed the animal, since his black fur blended right in with his black pants and shirts.

He heard Ronaldo coming up the stairs, and groaned as he saw the other step in, "Oh for Pete's sake..."

His friend had geared up like he was going to be doing deep cleaning, wearing gloves, a bandana over his curls, an apron, kneepads that he probably stole from the gardening shed in Lars' backyard, and had a plethora of cleaning equipment tucked under his arm.

"You look like my grandma," Lars snorted at him.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Ronaldo smiled smugly, "We're going to enjoy this, understood? Like in those Japanese movies we saw!"

"Well of course those people were having fun, magical shit was springing out of their walls on a daily basis," he rolled his eyes.

"If we're lucky, maybe something will spring out of your wall besides possible mold," Ronaldo spoke under his breath, and handed Lars a garbage bag, "You grab your tissues, I grab your food garbage, got it?"

"Fiiiine," Lars muttered, figuring the sooner they got through, the faster he could zone out to whatever it was they were going to watch while he was using Ronaldo's gut as a pillow.

Lars realized he'd used way more tissues than he thought during his cold, not to mention the discarded boxes and packets of medicine and cough drops and some glass teacups he'd forgotten to take downstairs. It was a little gross, touching old tissues like that, but Lars was a little too proud to ask for an extra pair of gloves.

"Yick," Ronaldo muttered as he looked at an old half finished pizza box, "You put raisins on pizza?"

"...I don't-"

"OH GOD THEY'RE MOVING!"

After a bit of a screaming fit, Ronaldo had managed to jam the box into the garbage bag without any of the 'raisins' falling out, and he resolved to use bug spray all over the room once it was clear.

"Gross gross gross," he was whispering under his breath. With all the weird things he handled, that was something he was not going to want to handle again anytime soon.

"In my defense, I told you I wanted a minifridge," Lars muttered.

"A minifridge will not save your room from the horrible state you've let it become, good sir," Ronaldo spoke grimly, and then pointed to Lars, "All the tissue cleaned up? Then pick up everything else, and put it where it belongs."

Lars did so, rushing everything, just plopping most of the crap on his messy desk.

"Ok fine, floor's clear, we done?", he looked over to Ronaldo.

"Oh good, the floor is semi clean!", he smiled, "I'll vacuum, and you can start on the desk!"

Lars groaned in despair, immediately regretting dumping everything onto it. He began grumbling under his breath while Ronaldo hummed, turning on the vacuum.

As he began to pick things out of the pile to sort, Lars did end up finding some of the missing art supplies he'd been looking for, and the pencil sharpener he'd lost a few weeks back. Well, that was kind of rewarding...but not enough to make this whole cleaning things worth it.

When it seemed everything had been put in a semi-proper place, Lars figured he was done, until Ronaldo happily handed him a soapy cloth to wipe down the desk, and added to wipe down the bookshelf nearby and his windowsill.

Ronaldo was cleaning with care and desire to work hard, while Lars furiously swatted the desk and sill with the cloth as hard and fast as he could, thinking his friend was being painfully anal about everything.

And it was going to get worse.

"...Your windows are dusty," Ronaldo observed.

"GOD PLEASE NO," Lars groaned.

"Just use the window cleaner," the other rolled his eyes, passing the bottle and another cloth over.

"Whyyyy are you doing this to me, you sadist," Lars whined, almost crying by now.

"You're being dramatic. We're making so much progress, you see?"

"FUCK. YOU," Lars gritted through his teeth as he irritably scrubbed at the windows, grime wiping away with each stroke. The sky looked a lot less gray than before once the window was clean.

"Alright, now for laundry," Ronaldo flexed his hands.

"We already did, it's in the hamper," Lars rolled his eyes again. He was going to get headaches if he kept doing that.

"I mean, we're going to clean it!"

"But that takes over an hour!", he glared.

"And how worth it that hour will be," Ronaldo smiled smugly, making his friend lift up the hamper and carry it downstairs to the laundry room, separating all the darks, lights, and delicates, and preparing them to be washed, adding the right amount of soap, and hanging the handwashes up to dry.

Lars complained the entire time, while Ronaldo was obnoxiously cheerful to the point where Lars was ready to drown him in the laundry tub and steal his wallet.

After what seemed like forever (but it was really only two hours), everything had been washed and dried, and too numb from frustration, hunger, exhaustion, and reluctant acceptance he was not going to ever see the light of day again (well he could now with his clean windows), Lars was hanging up his clothes in his closet, and then made his bed while Ronaldo stood in the corner, surveying everything.

As soon as Lars plopped the pillow onto the head of the bed, he glanced over to Ron, crossing his arms, "Well?"

Ronaldo put a hand to his chin as if he were looking deep in thought, and scanned over everything in the room. It looked a far cry better than the dump he'd walked into that afternoon. He looked at the bed again, and smiled as he wordlessly flopped on top of it, the mattress creaking underneath him, "That's good. Grab your laptop already!"

Lars rubbed his exhausted eyes in relief, and grabbed his laptop from his clean desk, gently tapping his finger against his snake's tank as he walked over to the bed, and lay on it so he was on his back, against the other's side.

"Aren't you proud of yourself for how clean we got your room?", Ronaldo smiled as he started up the anime.

Lars looked around at his clean room, and sighed, giving a smile of admittance, resting against his friend's soft middle.

"Yeah, I guess so."

And then promptly finger jabbed Ronaldo in the gut.


	2. Zoo

**Zoo**

* * *

Stepping off the bus, Lars sifted through his art satchel, making sure he had everything still, and waited for his friend to hop off the bus, "Y'got everything?"

"Yeah," Ronaldo wheezed as he hauled his too-heavy backpack onto his shoulders, "Just making sure I didn't drop anything on the bus..."

"We're going to the zoo, not spelunking," Lars rolled his eyes, "What's even in there anyways?"

"Oh, just four cameras, laptop, a tripod, my tablet, headset, and various paranormal hunting gear."

"Jeez man, bring your whole room why don't ya?," he snorted, "If we have to, we'll rent one of their lockers to put your stuff in. Why'd you bring four cameras anyway?"

"Well, in the case that I want to document animals at different distances, environments, and angles, each camera has a specific strength devoted to one or the other and-"

"Yeesh," Lars interrupted him, "I've got a membership here man, the animals aren't gonna go anywhere if you don't get the perfect picture of 'em. Besides, it's a zoo, not a haunted house or whatever. Just a bunch of animals."

"But I have to for my other blog, my _aesthetic_ blog," Ronaldo whined, and caught up as they walked down the street for the three blocks it took from the bus stop to the zoo, "Thanks for inviting me by the way. I haven't been here since we were little kids."

"No prob," Lars rolled his shoulders, "Decided to get some drawing practice in here, and figured you'd like it here, what with all the animals in the trees and stuff."

"I do quite like animals in trees," Ronaldo nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as they reached the entrance gate, and Lars paid for their tickets with his membership, and both went through the turnstile.

"So where are we going first?"

Lars glanced around, "Well, _I'm_ going to the tigers, I've been itching to draw some. You can go find what you wanna see though."

"Aw, you're not gonna see the rest of the zoo first?"

"I come here every three weeks, not much exploration for me," Lars shrugged, "I can walk around with you later after I get some drawing done, if you're willing to wait."

"I guess," Ronaldo sighed, and followed Lars as the other knowingly walked to the tigers, maneuvering through the crowds, dodging strollers and tiny kids being led along by their parents. It made Ronaldo feel a little nostalgic, remembering when he and Lars were tiny, they went to the zoo together with their preschool, and they ended up being each other's trip buddy. Apparently, lots of pictures had been taken of them holding hands and stuff, and they had been the most enthusiastic about the whole trip out of all the children, almost refusing to leave.

Once they reached the tiger exhibit, Lars had plopped himself right on the bench in front of the glass overlooking the large environment for the animal, and flipped open his sketchbook and prepared his sharpest pencil, looking poised for when the animal was in sight for drawing, wandering around its exhibit.

Ronaldo had settled beside him, "So how long is this going to take?"

"Dunno. Could be under an hour, could be over. We'll see," Lars mumbled, and perked up as the tiger walked into sight, quickly laying down soft lines to block out the shape. When the tiger paused momentarily, Lars cracked a small grin, talking under his breath, " _Aren't you gorgeous?_ "

"Why, thank you!", Ronaldo smiled smugly, which made his friend sputter, and curse at him under his breath while he still sketched away. After a while, he seemed to zone out, not even seeming to care or notice Ronaldo was there.

"How goes it?", Ronaldo decided to ask after twenty minutes of silence.

"Not...bad...", Lars answered under his breath, still in his zone. He'd put in earbuds and his gaze hadn't moved from any place beside the tiger and his sketchbook.

Realizing quickly Lars was not going to make for good conversation, Ronaldo sighed, and got up, "Well, I guess I'm going to go wander. See you a little later then?"

"Mmmhm," Lars mumbled, still not looking up.

* * *

Ronaldo decided to take his smaller digital camera, and looking over a map, headed in the direction of the primates, hoping that the zoo still had lemurs. And tamarins. And koalas. And anything that was living in trees.

The first animal he reached on his walk was the red panda, which was lounging on top of a branch, obviously not going to move anytime soon.

 _Perfect!_ Ronaldo grinned to himself as he lifted up the camera, and zoomed the lens in just so, and was about to snap a photo when the shrill noise of a child rushing over to the exhibit startled the animal who scampered away. Ronaldo whined in despair as the photo opportunity was ruined, and whirled his head around to see who had scared off the red panda.

A scrawny little kid wearing a skull and crossbones shirt was climbing onto the rail of the exhibit, looking around, "Hey where'd that thing go?", he squeaked.

"He got scared by some very _sudden_ noise," Ronaldo spoke coolly, looking rather unamused at the boy.

"Wow those things are fast!", the kid snickered and shouted, "HEY! C'MON OUT!", into the exhibit which made the animal retreat further out of sight.

"Maybe if you kept your voice down, they'd actually stay out here," Ronaldo spoke under his breath, then glared at the child, who paid no heed to him, and sped away, still whooping and cheering, bound to scare more animals.

 _Yeesh, what a little monster_ , Ronaldo thought to himself. He'd never been that unruly of a child, and he was pretty sure Lars never had been either. Though he had to admit, that kid did sort of remind him of his friend in some way. Weird.

* * *

Lars had been doing pretty well, getting two pages of tigers done without much disruption, but during his third page, that's when it seemed every kid in the zoo wanted to know _what he was doing, what he was drawing, could they see his book, could they draw in it, could he teach them to draw, look Mommy look Daddy that boy is drawing, he's drawing Tigger._

Thank god for earbuds, because Lars was able to drown out most of the kids' noise, so he could ignore them and blame it on loud music instead of being rude. That was until one child decided his very important question wasn't being answered, and tugged the earbuds out of Lars' ears. Yelping, the teen sat up, and gave an annoyed look, "Yes?"

The chubby kid looked at the sketchbook, then the tiger, then the sketchbook, then Lars, "Why is that drawing of the tiger there have one eye bigger than the other?"

"Wh- it doesn't-"

"And why does the head seem so small?"

Lars gave a shit eating grin, "It's called artistic interpretation."

"...it looks strange," the boy spoke again, and fixed his glasses onto his face before wandering away.

If Lars had been far less patient and maybe ten years younger, he would have had no problem feeding the little four eyed freak to his model. Nobody he knew was ever that annoying as a child. Maybe he resembled someone familiar, but it was hard to pinpoint who. Maybe he'd figure it out later.

* * *

Ronaldo did manage to get some decent photos of lemurs, which often moved a lot, but were still long enough to get snapshots of. The next closest exhibit was the koalas, which were one of Ronaldo's favorite animals (he swore it was only coincidence he loved 'Koala Princess' beforehand). Once he arrived, he was glad to see them all lounging peacefully in their trees, and that it would be much easier to snap pictures of them since they were slow and sleepy.

Right when he was about to turn on his camera, he heard loud whooping and cheering again.

Oh god, not this kid again.

Ronaldo decided he should just ignore the boy, take his pictures, admire the marsupials, and then diffuse by going to another location. Fate had other plans evidently, as the child decided it would be a good idea to climb onto the rail right in front of where Ronaldo was standing, and yell at the koalas to wake up and move.

When the animals made no motions to do so, the kid screamed louder, jumping around, and Ronaldo's patience was starting to wear thin. Another holler by the boy was enough to provoke him to speak up.

"Hey! I don't know if you noticed, but I'm trying to get some pictures here, and you're really being a distraction here. Not to mention, nobody likes getting hollered at, even animals, so if you wouldn't mind maybe taking your business elsewhere and let me get my pictures, then we can all-"

The boy swiftly ripped the camera out of Ronaldo's hand, and chucked it into the exhibit with a straight face, even when it landed in a patch of grass.

Ronaldo stared in disbelief at his fallen camera, and then the child, "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

"You can't take pictures now then, can you?", the boy smiled smugly, and blew a raspberry.

"You little-", Ronaldo glared, "That camera cost me five hundred dollars!"

"Too bad for you!", the child teased.

"Oh that does it," Ronaldo glared, and instead of doing the adult thing and getting a zookeeper's assistance, he reverted to a ten year old child, and yanked the boy's backpack right off his shoulders.

"HEY!", the boy screeched as Ronaldo lifted the pack way out of reach.

"You throw my camera, I throw THIS!", the teen declared, chucking it right into the exhibit where it bounced right off of his camera, and onto the grass, fated to be nibbled on by a koala.

The boy stared in horror at the pack, then at a self-satisfied Ronaldo, "You JERK! MY DIABETES KIT WAS IN THERE!"

Ronaldo's face went blank. _Oh shit._

"My insulin! My needles!", the boy yelped, "I need those! I'M GONNA DIEEEEE!"

"A-AHHH WAIT! Nonono, you're not gonna die! W-we just have to uh-"

"Wh-what if they can't get it in time, I don't know where my friend is here, he has my extra needles and-", the boy began to ramble, looking near tears.

"OK, wait I have an idea!", Ronaldo yelped, "You keep watch, I'm gonna climb down there, grab our stuff and you help me back up! Just stay calm and uh...don't have a blood sugar drop in the next several minutes!"

"O-OK!", the boy whimpered, visibly shaking out of terror.

Ronaldo climbed over the edge, and immediately regretted this decision, seeing it was a direct 8 foot drop to the ground, and he was only 6 foot 5. He yelped as he plopped to the ground, landing on his ass, and wiped the dirt off his pants as he walked over, quickly grabbing his camera, which still worked, and the backpack, and slung it over his shoulder.

"OK!", he called up, "Kid, you need to help me up and-"

Ronaldo's gut twisted as he saw the boy fake crying to a zookeeper who had wandered over, "I was just watching the animals when he threw my backpack in! He went in to steal it _and_ a koala!", he cried, pointing at Ronaldo.

"Wh- NO! He's lying! He threw my camera in so I had to get it! You little rat, you sold me out!", he screeched.

The zookeeper rolled their eyes at the ensuing screaming match that followed between the two, and sent down a ladder to get Ronaldo up. Ronaldo immediately began to explain the entire situation to the zookeeper, but was interrupted by the boy kicking him in the shin, and he tried to grab the brat by his shirt collar, which prompted the zookeeper to break them apart, and call in the zoo security to handle 'two unattended children'.

Ronaldo didn't even get pictures of the koalas. What a ripoff.

* * *

Lars had since tried to zone out the annoying kid who was now sitting next to him, blabbing on and on about how he thought Lars' drawings didn't show enough accuracy, and while his words had mostly just become a stream of 'bla bla bla' to the teen's ears, he was still significantly irritated, and he gave up, slamming his book shut after the third page was quickly finished, and shoving it in his satchel.

He ended up jamming his earbuds back into his ears, and grumpily texted Ronaldo, telling him he was finished drawing and they could wander the zoo. Anything to get away from this little nerd.

When he didn't receive a text from Ronaldo after several minutes, he grew a little concerned, especially since Ronaldo was always quick to respond.

The zoo intercom blared over the nearby speakers, which was the only thing Lars would see shut his irritating spectator up.

 _"Would Lars Cheng and Leonardo Boiler please come meet their missing parties at the Lost and Found?"_

Lars groaned, not even wanting to know what the hell Ronaldo did to get in trouble, but was more than happy to stand up and get away from the kid. He gave a glare when it seemed the boy was following him, and snapped, "Whatcha followin', me for? I'm done drawing! I have to go pick up my dumb friend!"

"I have to go pick up _my_ dumb friend!", the boy, apparently named Leonardo, answered, walking as fast as his little legs would carry him.

"Oh god," Lars groaned, rubbing his face, and speed walked to the lost and found, where he saw Ronaldo sulking on one of the too-small plastic chairs in the corner, glaring at the scrawny boy sat in the other corner.

"Ron, what the heck did you do?", Lars yelped.

"He started it," both parties grumbled, pointing at each other.

"Ugh, do I even wanna know?"

"No," Ronaldo sighed, standing up, "I'm not allowed to walk the zoo unattended, but at least I'm not banned."

"Oh good," Lars rolled his eyes, "I'd totally hate for that to be the worst possible-"

"Arlo? Are you in here?", Leonardo called in, walking into the room.

"Lenny!", Ronaldo's tormentor chirped, hurrying over, and hugging his friend, "Boy am I glad to see you!"

Lenny giggled as his glasses fell off his face with the force of his friend's hug, "Can't you stay outta trouble for one second?", he laughed.

"Nope!", Arlo laughed, "We still have time before your mom picks us up! I want to go see penguins!"

"OK!", Lenny cheered, and looked to Ronaldo, "Sorry if Arlo caused you any trouble. He can get a little rambunctious!"

"Well you can get really chatty!", Arlo snorted, glancing to Lars, who rolled his eyes.

"No kidding," he grumbled.

Without another word to the teens, both small boys scurried out of the lost and found, holding each other's hands.

"...this all seems uncannily familiar to me for some reason," Ronaldo mumbled, pushing his glasses up onto his face.

"Well don't think too much into it," Lars sighed, "We've got about two hours left. Want to walk the zoo with me until closing?"

"You're not too embarrassed to walk around with me after all of this?", he smiled.

"You've done worse," he snorted, "Much much worse."

"Certainly not as bad as Arlo, or evidently in your case, Lenny," Ronaldo teased, and held out his hand, "Show me around, Mr. Artist?"

Lars rolled his eyes, and smirked as he took his hand, "Whatever keeps you out of trouble, Ronny."

They walked almost the entire zoo like that, even when they passed the two small boys who had bugged them earlier, never having let go of the other's hand.


	3. Sugar

**Sugar**

* * *

"Ronnie! RonnieRonnieRonnie! RONN _IEEEEEE_!", squealed the small child outside the Fryman family home, bouncing excitably on his feet, "C'mon OUUUUT!"

The window cracked open, and Ronnie sleepily fixed his glasses on his face, "Laaars, it's eight in the morning..."

"But it's my birthday!", he insisted, "An' I got six ten dollar bills for my birthday, one for each year! An' I can do whatever I want with them!"

"Whatever you want?", his friend smiled, peeking over the window.

"Whatever I want," Lars grinned.

That was enough to excite the other boy, who hopped out his first story window onto the ground in his pajamas with a cheer. His father immediately shouted for him to get back inside and get dressed, and he sheepishly scurried back in, ignoring Lars' giggles. Once he came back out, dressed, he grinned, "So...what are we doing today besides your family's party?"

Lars leafed through the crisp new bills he'd been gifted by his father along with the rest of his saved money, "I'm gonna use my money to get what I've _always_ wanted."

"A time machine?"

"No," Lars sighed, "That costs way more than six ten dollar bills...the other thing I've always wanted."

"Tall shoes for the roller coaster at Funland?"

"Nooo!", Lars whined again, "A snake!"

"A snake? When did you ever want a snake?"

"I always have!", he insisted. Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. In preschool, a reptile expert had come in with a bunch of different reptiles to show everyone, and talk about them, and having been a shy withdrawn child, Lars was surprised with himself when he bravely stepped forward to pet the giant python the man was holding, amazed at how smooth it was, and how warm it felt on his hand. For the rest of that talk, the boy had been completely enthralled with the idea of handling snakes, and had immediately asked his mother and father if he could have one.

They said it was too much of a responsibility for him, and that snakes cost a lot of money (Lars checked the pet store, the cage, snake, and food all added up to about 10 ten dollar bills), and that he would have to save up for when he was older. Well now that he was six, and had been good at saving all of his money, he felt it was more than appropriate to gift himself with the perfect present.

Ronnie still didn't believe him until Lars offered him the position of being godfather to whichever snake he adopted. Then he was more than gung-ho about rushing to the pet store.

Lars, still a runt in comparison to his friend, scrambled as fast as his legs would carry him, "Hurry Ronnie, the pet store opens at eight o'thirty!", he whined, even though the other boy was several steps ahead of him, even pulling little Lars by the hand.

"You hurry!", Ronnie laughed, and the two bounded down the boardwalk, running across every crosswalk, careful to look both ways.

"What if everyone wants a snake today and they run out?," Lars whined, "What if they push me down and take my money and-"

"Well aren't you boys early?", the kindly old pet store owner, Mr. Dander, smiled as he opened the door for business just as the two friends scurried in front of the entrance.

"It's Lars' birthday today!", Ronnie cheered.

"Is that so?", the owner smiled, "Well happy birthday then!"

"Thank you!", the birthday boy chirped, "I'm going to get a snake!"

"Are you?", Mr. Dander smiled, "You're in luck! I have a few snakes that are looking for a good home."

"Really?", he squealed, stars in his eyes.

The owner laughed, "I sure do. They're in the reptile room right back there! Go right on ahead and take a look!"

Lars and Ronnie both cheered in delight as they rushed into the back of the store where different sized tanks and cages were settled on shelves. Lars was glad there was a small ledge on the floor he could step on so he didn't have to stand on tiptoes to look at all his different choices.

"I'm going to look for the biggest snake they have!", he grinned to Ronnie, who was content to look at everything all at once.

But both boys immediately found one issue to their plans. None of the cages exactly seemed much bigger than a fish tank, and not all of the inhabitants in said cages were snakes. Doing a quick look, they both noticed most of the animals were lizards, and one larger cage with an iguana, the store pet, Margie.

Lars looked at the tiny, wormy dirt colored snakes that were in tanks, and frowned. These weren't the big pythons he was looking for. Maybe they were up on a higher shelf? Or maybe Mr. Dander kept them in the very back under a table?

The boy toddled over to the pet store owner, who leaned down to hear him, "Where are your pythons? None of those snakes are very big!"

The old man smiled apologetically, "I'm afraid I don't have any pythons in my store, son. They're much too big for me to sell here, and they need a lot more care than these corn snakes or milk snakes do."

"But these are like big worms!", Lars whined, disappointment sinking in.

"Well, they're still babies, but they make fine pets," Mr. Dander smiled, "They'll grow up soon, and be big enough to wrap around your arm, or your shoulder."

Lars puffed out his cheeks, "Phooey," he mumbled, not finding that very big, and sulked as he looked around the tanks. Ronnie had reached his hand into one of the tanks to pet one of the snakes, greeting it softly, only to be met with it nipping at his hand.

Ronnie cried out, and pulled his hand away, rushing over to the store owner to cry about how the snake had bitten him, and how he was going to die of 'venomning', and the old man assured him that they were not venomous, and that he was going to be alright.

While his friend bawled and whined, Lars despondently looked at all the tanks, not feeling all too excited anymore.

He'd just finished glancing at a tiny gecko when his eyes met with beady little black ones in the tank in the back corner of the room. Curious, he walked over, and crouched down to look in.

A small white snake was staring right at him, peeking out from a little cardboard hut it was playing in, flicking it's tongue out, and slowly inching its snout out of the hut in curiosity.

"Hey...this one's different!," Lars chirped, looking up to the pet store owner, who was putting a band-aid over Ronnie's non-wound at the little boy's insistence.

Mr. Dander looked over, and smiled, "Yes, she is! She's an albino corn snake. Albino snakes can be very rare, you know. That makes her very special."

"Woooah," he breathed softly, looking at the little snake again. Knowing this was a special snake made this all much more important.

Just as Ronnie was about to insist that Lars should forget about snakes, that they were too mean and wormy and probably smelled bad, Lars had hopped down from the ledge, holding out his money to the owner, "I'll take her!"

After all the necessary purchases and preparations were made, Lars was ever so carefully carrying the tank containing his new pet home, Ronnie walking alongside him as he held the extra supplies Lars had bought.

"Isn't she so cool Ronnie! She's an albunny!"

" _Albino_ ," Ronnie corrected his friend, and looked in skeptically, being the science whiz of kindergarten, "I don't even know if she's a true albino, her eyes aren't red and her scales aren't-"

"She's _special_ ," Lars smiled, "And I've got to give her a special name!...I'm going to call you...Killer!"

The snake didn't even react, more invested in staying hunkered down while her home was being relocated.

"...hm...no," Lars frowned, "Not Killer. You don't look like a Killer."

"She looks more like a shoelace," Ronnie mumbled.

"Hey don't be mean!", the birthday boy whined, "She's gonna grow big and awesome, I know it!"

"What else would you want to name her?", his friend shrugged, softly warning him about the curb coming up so he didn't trip.

"...Let's see...it has to be something cool... _Poison_ ,", Lars grinned wickedly into the tank. When the snake made no response besides sticking her little tongue out, he frowned and sighed, "No...not that either."

"Corn snakes aren't poisonous either," Ronnie chimed in.

"That's not what you told Mr. Dander~", Lars teased, glancing at the other boy's bandaged finger.

"Hey, I didn't know if it really was a corn snake! I thought I felt teeth!", he whined.

" _Sure_ you did," he smiled, and gently set the tank down to open his door once they got home.

His older sister, Miriam, was about to cheerfully tell him happy birthday, but screamed at the sight of the little reptile, "MOM, LA-LA BROUGHT A SNAKE HOME!"

His mother scurried in, and gasped as she saw the animal in the tank. Lars grinned, "I bought my present!"

* * *

After having a lengthy talk with his parents about making such a big decision without them, and the responsibility he would have to shoulder to take care of his new pet, Lars was allowed to put her tank in his room on his playtime table, and after his father helped him set up the heat lamp, and the tank thermometer, the two friends were left sitting in Lars' room, watching the snake crawl around in her new owner's hands.

"Doesn't that feel weird?" Ronnie asked, watching the tiny animal explore around his hands and wrists.

"Nope," he smiled, "She's wiggly," he giggled, and made a silly face, "I can't believe we had to put her mice in the freezer! Micicles!"

Ronnie laughed, and fixed his glasses, "So...any more name ideas?"

"Yeah!", Lars grinned, "Crusher!"

"...I don't think she's going to crush anything soon, she looks more like a 'hugger'," Ronnie observed as the little animal licked Lars' fingers.

"Yeah, you're right," Lars sighed, "This might take a while..."

Two hours later, both boys were flopped on their backs in despair. Naming a cool animal with an equally cool name was _hard_.

"Potato?", Ronnie suggested again, sounding dead.

"You said that three times," Lars whined, "I'm not calling her that. I'm calling _you_ that now though."

"Meanie," Ronnie mumbled.

"...Ratmuncher?", Lars spoke up, as if he was giving up.

"...She's too small to even munch a rat," the other spoke, taking his glasses off his face.

"Ohhh, this is hopeless!", Lars whined, staring at his ceiling, plopping the snake onto his stomach, "If I can't figure out a name for her before the party, then I can't make her my guest of honor! She'll be nameless!", he whined.

"Can I be guest of honor?" Ronnie perked up, hopeful at the idea of not playing second fiddle to a snake.

"No, you're best friend of honor," Lars grumbled, and huffed in frustration.

While he sulked, the snake curiously slithered around his arm, moving up towards his head, and let her snout touch his chin and then his cheek. Her tiny tongue flicked against his skin, and he gave a tiny giggle.

 _'She's ticklish,'_ Lars thought to himself. He cracked a small smile, and sighed as he sat up, taking her into his hands, "Man, you're nothing cool...you're special...and cute...but you're not cool like a python or a cobra...you're not a killer at all. You're just sweet like sugar."

The snake tapped his nose, and Lars had a flash of brilliance which made him grin from ear to ear, and his eyes sparkled.

" _Sugar_...Sugar!," he laughed, "Sugar Sugar Sugar!", he began to repeat excitably.

"What about sugar?", Ronnie mumbled from the floor, half dead.

"Sugar! That's what I'm naming her! Sugar!," Lars cheered, and stood up, hopping off the bed, twirling in place as he held the snake in his hands, letting her touch his nose again.

"But I thought you wanted her to have a special name!"

"She does! It's not a cool name, but it's a special name because she's so sweet!", he giggled, "And she's gonna be my pet who loves me forever and ever!", and cheered from the top of the stairs so everyone could hear him.

 _"I LOVE SUGAR!"_

His parents then both agreed he needed to cut back on the caffeinated sodas.

That evening, Lars and Ronnie both cheered, laughed, and sang the praises of Sugar the Snake, the guest of honor at Lars' birthday party, right in front of all his relatives who came to celebrate with him. Most were amused at the boys' happiness, a few a little shocked that their little relative was handling such a fearsome creature, and a few feeling a little jealous that he got to have such an exotic pet at such a young age.

Even if Ronnie still was a little apprehensive of snakes when the day was over, he was more than eager to agree with Lars' declaration that this had been his best birthday ever.

* * *

 **Big shoutout to my bud JankyBones on tumblr who helped me with this drabble and shares parentage with me to the headcanon of Lars owning a snake named Sugar! She's our little fictional baby who we'll love forever, just like Lars.**


	4. Model

**Model**

* * *

"Do you have more pillows? This stage is pretty flat."

"Yeah, hold up," Lars called over from the last garage window he was covering with paper. He didn't want any possibility of someone peering in during this, and invading their privacy. He then went through the garage door that led to the house, coming back inside several seconds later with a bunch of pillows in his arms, "Is this enough? I can probably yank some offa the guest room bed too."

"That should work," Ronaldo smiled, and took them, placing them in a pile suitable to be lounged on, "So uh, do I need to take my clothes off now yet?"

"Mm, in a couple minutes," Lars mumbled, pulling out his pencil case, and picking out the drawing utensils he would be using, and grabbed a pillow for himself, placing it on the drawing horse he'd brought in.

"OK," Ronaldo breathed through his nose, trying to settle his nerves. He'd been all too eager to volunteer to be a model for Lars to practice life drawing with, but hadn't expected to be told he would be stripping naked, his friend having explained that's normally what drawing studios did, life drawing with nude models. It wasn't like Ronaldo could really back out on this, after all, Lars had been complaining all week about how he needed to squeeze some practice in while the local college's drawing studio was closed for renovation, and he did sound really desperate.

Lars passed him a bamboo stick, "I probably wanna start with some quick standing poses or somethin', you can pose with this if you want."

"U-Uh great, thanks," Ronaldo nodded.

"Need you to tie your hair back a little, I wanna get your face", he tossed him a little hairtie, "Keep your glasses on a bit, I'll see if they add any element or whatever."

"Gotcha," Ronaldo sighed, putting the band between his teeth as he worked his curls into a manageable ponytail of some sort to tie in the back.

Lars looked around his little makeshift studio, "OK...yeah...yeah! This will work. Aight, man, you can strip now!"

A small shiver ran up Ronaldo's spine, and he gulped, "Oh, uh, right. Yes. Let me...do just that..."

"You want me to cover my eyes or whatever?", Lars shrugged.

"No, no," he spoke quickly, "I'm fine!", and immediately began to strip, feeling a bit of anxiety building in the pit of his stomach. _Keep it cool, this isn't much different than when we went skinny dipping as kids, it's fine, it's cool._ Ronaldo was, admittedly, a bit more than a little nervous stripping naked in front of his datefriend. It wasn't just because it was Lars, but just in general, Ronaldo was slightly self conscious about his body like this, fully exposed.

"If you ever wanna take a break, I put a robe behind the platform by the way," Lars piped up casually, snapping Ronaldo out of his thoughts as he had just pulled off his shirt and was hesitant to remove his pants.

"Oh, uh, yes, thanks," he smiled quickly, and nervously shucked off his cargo shorts and boxers, dropping them in a pile on the floor. He glanced away, not exactly wanting to see what Lars' expression was as he prepped to draw him.

"Aight, so just gimme some gesture poses, I'll tell you when to move and stuff," the artist spoke casually, already starting to scratch some lines on his paper with the charcoal pencil, which prompted Ronaldo to freeze.

Every time Lars announced he could move, Ronaldo was very particular about posing himself in ways that hopefully wouldn't show off his stomach, or his 'love handles', or his chest with 'man boobs', or his butt, or his thighs, or his hips. Or anything that he felt clashed with what made a good model. And he was not very successful with his attempts to make the pose right.

Lars must have noticed his discomfort during the sixth or seventh pose, as he spoke up, "Y'doin alright up there? You look antsy."

"Just...getting accustomed to the stage," Ronaldo smiled tightly. On the next pose, he picked up a pillow and held it over his stomach, trying to play it off as a prop, but his fingers were gripping so tightly to the pillow, it simply melded against his form.

"...do you wanna put your clothes back on?", Lars sighed, seeing how the other still looked so uncomfortable.

"No, really, I'm fine."

"Alright," Lars shrugged, "Let's do some longer poses now, I guess. Just use the bamboo stick, and hold still for a bit."

"Right," Ronaldo nodded, and awkwardly flexed his fingers around the staff, and once again, did a very withdrawn looking pose that, in Lars' opinion, made for a crappy silhouette.

"...Uh, you wanna get a little more dramatic, man?", he piped up, "I can't draw you if you're all huddled like that."

"O-Oh of course," Ronaldo laughed awkwardly, "Let me just ah...", he began to get a little frustrated, mumbling to himself, "No no, that can't be seen...this is too big, that's too thick...oh...", he mumbled, growing a little more flustered.

Lars rolled his eyes, "Alright, put your clothes on."

"B-but I-!"

"Y'obviously don't like being naked up there and me potentially staring at your junk, so I'm not gonna force you to stay like that."

"But you need a model-"

"I don't want you naked if it's gonna bug you so much, man," he sighed, "Look, I'd be pretty freaked if I had to pose nude, with or without a binder, so I'm not gonna be mad if you wanna do it in your clothes."

Ronaldo sighed, grabbing the robe, "It's just...you need a model, and I...definitely do not have the body of one."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Lars muttered under his breath, standing up, and walking over, 'If that's what's bugging you man, don't worry about it! I think your body is great drawing material, I mean, you've got a lotta curves, and a lotta shape!"

"That's not far from the truth," Ronaldo mumbled, poking his own stomach.

"And that stuff is like, _really fun_ to draw," he grinned, and tugged Ronaldo by the hand, "Look look, I made all these really round shapes and lines with those gestures I did. You've got killer thighs."

Ronaldo flushed brightly, looking at the curvy, large-shaped figures, "Gee. Thanks."

"Hey that's a good thing! Curves are like...in most artist's eyes, really.. _.lovely_!", Lars shrugged, the word sort of strange coming off his tongue.

"Really?"

"Yeah, man! It's not much fun doing the same straight lines on thin models all the time. You add a lotta variety to it! Your 'intrinsic line of beauty' is gonna be a lot more exaggerated and it makes the drawing all the more fun to do!"

Ronaldo looked over the drawings, and felt a tiny bit better. If Lars truly was admiring his body, and making them into frankly, very beautiful drawings, then maybe he could handle being a nude model. And handle someone normally as prickly as Lars calling him 'beautiful'.

Lars had teasingly let a hand gently grope his stomach, snickering, "Besides, your chub is pretty damn cute for me to google over."

Flushing bright, Ronaldo dropped the robe right where he stood, which made Lars sputter, and the model scooped the suddenly very flustered artist up. After a bit of squirming, Lars huffed, and settled against Ronaldo's bare chest.

"Y'know, you're actually pretty comfy," he muttered.

"Can I take a break with _you_ on the stage like this?", he grinned cheekily, "Those pillows shant go to waste!"

"Fine, but I'm keeping my clothes on."

"Fair enough~"


	5. Neighbors

**Neighbors**

* * *

Lars and Ronaldo couldn't exactly remember which of them had first suggested moving into a place of their own, but whoever was responsible should have felt very strong regret after the first three weeks.

Their apartment just so happened to be in a three story complex, on the second floor, meaning they would be sandwiched between two whole other floors of tenants who had lives of their own inside their abodes. And thus the couple would have to settle with handling some mild disturbances from above and below. But their experience as of late had been far beyond mild disturbances. It had been _hell_.

The neighbors above, Sherman and Lois, happened to be a young couple in their twenties. Not that there was anything wrong with that, Lars and Ronaldo were in the same demographic, but this couple just so happened to be two of the loudest people they would ever have the displeasure of meeting. They were loud when they talked in their kitchen, loud when they talked on their phone, loud in their living room. Their conversations were often so loud, Lars and Ronaldo could pick up on what they were saying; _Sherman's boss is a complete ass, Lois' job doesn't pay well enough, oh god Lois' mother is such a witch_. It was sometimes entertaining for Lars and Ronaldo to listen in on them, especially if the cable was out.

The issue came with the fact their neighbor's loudness crossed over into everything else they did, especially at night, in their bedroom. It was one thing to hear conversation, but to hear every single goddamn noise your neighbors did while having sex was an entirely different experience. It's like those two had no concept of quiet hours, and even past two in the morning almost every night, they kept Lars and Ronaldo awake with their activities. It even ruined the nights where Lars and Ronaldo would have wanted intimate time of their own, the sounds of other people's wild and loud sex being a real mood killer, not to mention a horribly creaky bed that responded to every single movement the loud couple made.

The neighbor below, Pete, was a college student who seemed determined to be the ultimate frat boy. The noise that came from his floor was worse than the neighbors above, the apartment getting packed beyond maximum capacity with drunk, wild college students who would bring in more sound systems than an electronic's store, and who cheered and whooped at every little thing happening at that party. If Lars and Ronaldo weren't so fed up with all the noise in the wee hours of the morning, they might have had the energy to attend one of those parties and steal some beers. But being stuck in a noise plagued sandwich of disturbance and insanity, they didn't even want to step out in the hallway.

Both Lars and Ronaldo had talked to their neighbors about quieting it down a little, but they hardly paid any heed to their requests.

It wasn't like they hadn't complained to the higher ups before or anything, but the superintendent and landlord both seemed like they weren't going to do anything about it anytime soon. And by the time they did, it was going to be more than likely that Lars and Ronaldo would commit murder on the floors they were stuck between.

One late afternoon, on the rare occasion that it was fairly quiet, the two had been cuddled together on their couch enjoying the peace. Lars had grinned slyly, flopping his head on his boyfriend's lap, looking up, "Think we've got enough time to kick it up a notch?"

"Before we have to hear 'Sexfest Until 2AM'?", Ronaldo glanced down at him.

"What else?", he snickered, and sat up in his lap, pulling him into a kiss, and playing with his hair. They'd have to be fast with whatever they did before the neighbors ruined it. They actually got pretty far, with Lars having pulled his shirt off, and Ronaldo had a few nice hickeys on his neck, but before they could get to full on making out, the loud moans they had become accustomed to bellowed from above.

"Dammit!," Ron whined, and flopped back on the couch

"Are they really fucking this early in the day?", Lars asked incredulously, already hearing the awful bed creaks, and cursed again as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on. So much for alone time.

Ronaldo heard the loud, enthusiastic conversation they were having while they were getting it on, and gave a snicker, "Congrats to Sherm, he got a raise."

"Great. Maybe they'll tire out before the night is over," Lars hoped.

"Maybe," Ronaldo echoed, fixing his glasses, and headed into the kitchen to pour himself another cup of coffee. As he had tipped the coffee pot forward, he was startled by the loud boom of a freshly activated speaker, and dropped the coffee pot, getting hot coffee on his feet, and he cursed, "Damn it, that stings!"

Lars was scowling at the floor, "Is it early party day for _everyone_ today or something?", and stamped over to the couch, slapping a pillow over his head to muffle the noise. Ronaldo soon joined him on the couch feet still pink from the hot coffee.

"Let's...try to ignore them for a bit...?", Ronaldo sighed, sipping his coffee, but every time he put the cup to his lips, the vibrations from below shook his cup so that the hot coffee splashed on his lip, and he winced.

"That's it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!", Lars finally screeched, sitting up, and flinging himself off the couch, stamping into their room.

"What are you doing? You're not moving out are you?", Ronaldo frowned, following his boyfriend, seeing him furiously open up their closet, and pull out a baseball bat, "LARS!"

"I'm not going down without a fight!", Lars snapped, and tapped the butt of the baseball bat to the ceiling harshly, "HEY! YOU UP THERE! PIPE DOWN!"

"PUT A SOCK IN IT!", a female voice shouted from above, and the creaking and moaning continued, even louder than before.

Lars chucked the bat back into the closet, steaming mad. He grabbed a pillow, and plunged his face into it, screaming into it, "Ronnie let me kill them. Let me kill them _please_ ," he nearly cried.

Ronaldo watched him cry in despair, and then had an idea, grinning, "I think I know what we can do. Beat them at their own game."

"Wh-?"

"We just have to be louder than them...And I think I know how to do it," Ronaldo grinned coolly, peering over his glasses at Lars.

Lars grinned mischievously in return.

The neighbors above had remained oblivious to how loud they were until their sounds were interrupted by a delighted screech from below.

"OHHH _RONNIE_ ~!"

Ronaldo was jumping violently on the bed, making it creak as much as he possibly could, "DOES THIS FEEL GOOD, LARS~?", he shouted as loudly as he could.

Lars was holding back laughter as he sat on the floor, watching the other jump, and threw his head back as he screamed, "OH GOD YES, THIS FEELS SO GOOD! FUCK ME HARDER!"

"OF COURSE, MY LOVE~", Ronaldo was doing his best not to crack up as he continued abusing the mattress with his feet.

They continued the loud screaming and moaning until there was no other sound rivaling it from above, and they both listened carefully to see if the neighbors were still there.

"What the fuck are they doing down there?", Lois asked from above, sounding almost horrified.

"I dunno, they're gay, maybe sex is different for them!", Sherman yelped.

Lars and Ronaldo were trying not to burst into hysterics as Lars then sing-songed, "OH RONNIE~ CAN YOU GRAB THE TOYS~?"

"CERTAINLY! LET ME GET THE NEW ONE~", Ronaldo grinned, and pulled the chainsaw they'd grabbed out from under the bed, "THIS IS THE NEW VIBRATOR I ORDERED", and he turned it on, priming it up and let it roar loudly.

The neighbors were horrified to hear the vicious sounding noise, wondering what the hell kind of vibrator that was, and how Lars was going to handle such a thing.

"OH RONNIE IT'S _AMAAAAZING_ ~", Lars wailed, before grabbing a pillow and stuffing it over his face as he laughed hysterically. Ronaldo soon turned off the chainsaw, and grabbed his own pillow to roar with laughter into while the neighbors were deathly quiet and traumatized. If this is what Lars and Ronaldo sounded like on a daily basis, then maybe Sherman and Lois would have to invest in a new apartment...or fund for soundproofing all the walls.

That order of business taken care of, the scheming couple had stifled their giggles, and realized they still would have to deal with the mini-frat below them.

"Any more ideas?", Lars looked to Ronaldo with a wide grin, "Because I've got one now."

"Give me the details, love," he smiled coolly.

Sour Cream had ended up giving Lars some of his old DJing equipment that he had replaced with newer models, and now was the perfect time to use it, Lars figured. With Ronaldo's expert sleuthing, they were able to find the vent that led straight down to frat-boy Pete's room, and placed the speakers next to it.

Lars primed up a playlist named 'Salt And Pepper Diner', grinning wickedly, "I've been saving this for a rainy day. All 21?"

"All 21," Ronaldo grinned back, rubbing his hands evilly.

The hardcore club music down below ended up being no match for the explosively cheerful melody of Tom Jones' "What's New Pussycat?", which rang through the party like an air raid siren, leaving many college students very confused and annoyed.

To add to the annoyance, Lars had set up a microphone connected to the speakers, and the two had gleefully, loudly, and horribly started singing along to the song, not planning to stop until they saw college kids flee outside.

Hearing horrible singing meshed in with the already obnoxious song was enough to irritate some partygoers, and Pete banged his hand on the ceiling, "Hey knock it off!", he shouted, but his words were drowned out by another loop of the chorus and his neighbors' deliberately horrid singing.

By the forth loop, most of the party was gearing up to leave.

The fifth play ended up being an entirely different song in Tom Jones' discography, "It's Not Unusual", which made a few guests calm down, and decide to stay longer.

Lars and Ronaldo grinned evilly when the song faded out, and the whole complex was dead quiet. They heard one party guest ask, "Is it over?"

Oh no, hon, not even close.

" _WHAT'S NEW PUSSYCAT WHOA WHOA~_ ," Ronaldo and Lars screamed into the microphone when the song started again, and they cackled madly with laughter as they heard noises of dismay, annoyance, and rage come from down below.

"I'M GONNA GET THOSE GUYS," they heard Pete roar after the eleventh playthrough, and heard him leave his apartment, and they snickered like immature teenagers as they turned off the speakers, covered them with a sheet, and settled on their couch in cuddle mode as if they'd been in there all evening, minding their own business.

When their neighbor pounded angrily on the door, Ronaldo opened it, smiling amicably, "Well hello neighbor!"

"What the fuck are you two doing? You're fuckin' up my party!"

Ronaldo covered his mouth in feigned confusion, and looked over to Lars, who was grinning as he leafed through a book, "Lars, did you know there was a party going on?"

"Really? It's been dead quiet, I swear," Lars spoke, sounding disinterested, turning a page.

"Well, if you need any party snacks, let us know!", Ronaldo grinned, and closed the door on the fuming frat-boy, holding back laughter, and whispered, "Wait until he goes back down, and we turn it on."

"Right right," Lars whispered.

Before they could even turn on the speakers again, they saw college kids darting out of the complex, hooting and hollering as they escaped what looked like bright green smoke, and a faint smell of skunk was noticeable.

"Close the vents," Ronaldo muttered, "Looks like they got the college mascot."

"Yeesh," Lars muttered, and once the vents were closed, and no skunk smell was noticeable, he flopped back on the couch, grinning, "...Think we're gonna get complaints?"

"No doubt."

Once Ronaldo had settled beside him again, Lars plopped onto his lap, "Hey. It's quiet now. Wanna do something besides terrorize the neighbors?"

"Like what?", the other grinned.

"Anything we want~"

They grinned excitably at each other, thinking of all the fun they'd be able to have that evening, but then noticed the bags under each others' eyes from lack of sleeping the last several nights.

"...want to nap first? Sleep is nice too."

"...Yeah."


	6. Pear Tree

**Pear Tree**

 **(content warning: character death)**

* * *

Ronaldo was impressed. For so many years, he'd always teased Lars about his inability to garden. Being a chef, and in the phase of being frugal, Lars had always insisted on growing his own food for cooking. But eventually, after so many dishes he could do in his sleep were hindered by shoddy fruits and veggies, Lars had given up.

It was only when, during a party, Buck Dewey had told Lars he needed to 'grow a pair', and Lars, absolutely fuming and upset, had decided he would take those words to heart. And grow a _pear_. He planted a pear tree sapling up by Ronaldo's 'brooding hill', and was dead serious in his attempts to have it grow. Everyone, even Ronaldo, had suspected it was going to die within a year, either from Lars over caring or under caring for it, the cold winter coming up, or the streak of bad luck Lars had with making anything grow. But come four years later, and the tree was still standing tall, tall enough for Ronaldo to climb sometimes, and look over Beach City.

It was rather humorous, to see such a surly punk like Lars so invested in something as simple as a pear tree. He had been pretty diligent in caring for it, watering it daily, making sure the soil wasn't too dry or too moist, and made sure the tree was free of bugs and infection. When winter came around, a good amount of time was spent making sure it was protected from the cold weather, in spite of Lars' own unstable health.

* * *

"How are you feeling today, my liege?", Ronaldo teased softly as he sat by Lars under the tree, overlooking the hill.

"I'm feeling fine," Lars had responded casually, "The fresh air's doing me pretty good up here."

"That's good. You know I worry about you sometimes," Ronaldo had softly admitted.

"You worry too much, lunkhead. I'm fine, promise."

* * *

Lars had always been ill. Born weak and sickly with highly underdeveloped lungs, doctors had warned his parents that he would probably not live past three months. He lived. And he had seemingly thrived for a handful of years until he'd had what was supposedly an asthma attack in his and Ronaldo's tree house one afternoon and was rushed to the hospital. While being examined, he developed a fever and grew pale. Multiple medical exams were taken, multiple medicines administered, a few operations suggested but not affordable for his parents, even with insurance. They said with measures of precaution, Lars' constitution might possibly strengthen, but more than likely, by age eighteen, he would need a complete lung transplant or face respiratory failure. Lars' mother had cried, but any of Lars' potential worries had faded away when Ronaldo had visited him in the hospital with flowers and comic books.

Finding the measures of precaution to be all too stifling, especially with such a young wild spirit as his own, Lars ignored them. He'd take his medicines if it meant he'd be able to go play outside with Ronaldo and explore Beach City as hunters for the strange and unusual, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stay cooped up inside during the summer days. But the only thing shakier than Lars' health was his self esteem and his image. Eventually he grew fearful of what other people said about him, and his friend, and one day, at the age of eleven, their friendship ended over a ripped up photograph.

After that, Ronaldo had no awareness as to how Lars was doing, if he was still taking medicines, or taking trips to the hospital. He didn't worry too much, Lars had always told him that he'd be fine when he got older, and that he'd be well enough to try out for the baseball team at their school.

Not that Ronaldo really cared much about what happened him. After all, they weren't friends anymore.

* * *

"I took some pictures of this place the other day, I'll bring them up to show you sometime," Ronaldo had offered his friend while they sat under that tree.

"I'd like that," Lars had smiled, "I like when you come visit me, man."

* * *

When they were about eighteen, they had managed to repair their friendship, and while catching up on their lives, Lars had told him his health was getting better with the cleaner air, and that his body's energy was catching up with his spirit's, giving him more time to spend with friends, and do things he hadn't done before. This had prompted Ronaldo to invite him on his paranormal expeditions as his assistant. Before long, it was like they had never broken their friendship off in the first place, and what they had seemed to blossom into something beyond a friendship.

Ronaldo couldn't quite remember when he had kissed Lars for the first time. It was either during a movie night at the lighthouse, or during that exploration in the woods in search of what could have possibly been the first North American tatzelwurm. Lars had been shouting at him for some reason, and he had told him to calm down, and shut him up with the kiss. What he most certainly didn't expect was for it to be returned so quickly.

* * *

"I'm sorry Sadie and I laughed at you when you first told us about the tree," Ronaldo mused softly.

"I'm still mad about that, you know. Jerk," Lars snorted.

"Sadie still misses you."

"I miss her too."

"On the plus side, the tree's looking great."

"Once it grows fruit again in a few weeks, you can use that recipe I gave you for the best pear cobbler you'll have ever tasted", Lars cracked a grin.

"It won't taste as good, unless cooked by your hands," Ronaldo had smiled sadly.

"I know..."

* * *

It was during the winter that Lars had grown especially concerned about the well being of his tree. It was a little over a year old, and still susceptible to the cold. If he wanted it to blossom and bear fruit that next spring and summer, he'd have to take extra steps to protect it from the impending snow and chills.

Both Ronaldo and Sadie had insisted they could do it for him, that he wasn't supposed to exert himself in the cold weather. But he insisted he could do it fine. He would manage. He was taking his medicines, and he felt energetic going up and down the hill every day, so this wouldn't be a problem.

He'd managed to make it through the winter without much issue on his health, even on the coldest days of the year. The tree survived, and Lars rejoiced, cheering like a hooligan, climbing into the tree and having a celebration as he admired the white blossoms that had arrived with the early spring.

Everything seemed to be looking up until one afternoon, Ronaldo was late joining his significant other on the hill, and was the first to discover him on his knees, body in spasms as his lungs hemorrhaged massively onto the bright green grass, staining it red.

* * *

"I remember carrying you to the hospital," he had spoken softly, having picked up a fallen leaf from the tree, twirling it in his fingers.

"You were so scared," Lars had teased.

"Of course I was," he mumbled, "You were coughing up blood."

"C'mon man. I was gonna be fine."

"That's a lie. You know that."

"...I'm sorry..."

"...I sometimes wonder what might have happened if you had made it," Ronaldo had mumbled.

Lars had not responded.

He hadn't said anything to begin with.

That whole time under the tree, Ronaldo had been theorizing what his dear friend would probably have said had he actually been sitting there.

Ronaldo had been talking to a grave. And even when he fully realized it, he had no intention of ending this conversation.

* * *

Lars had needed a lung transplant, and soon. He was further down the waiting list to receive one from a listed donor, but on the offchance someone volunteered specifically for him, he could have an operation sooner.

Both Ronaldo and Sadie were rejected as matches. Ronaldo felt like a failure until Lars had insisted that he didn't want to take anything from his friends, especially something they would need to live a healthy life. He wasn't going to compromise their health for the sake of his own, even if they insisted on it.

Still, even as his body was rapidly starting to turn on him, Lars remained the same wild spirit he'd always been. He cursed out the doctors for pricking his arms so much they stung, he shouted at the TV when it refused to work, and on the occasions where he tried to stand without his legs giving in or his lungs potentially collapsing, he would try to walk over to the window to see if anyone was coming.

However, even while his spirit remained wild, his sickness was cruel and aggressive, hindering on his ability to talk beyond a whisper, and leaving him out of breath even faster than before.

No matter how much Sadie or Ronaldo would insist that he save his energy and voice, he insisted on conversing with them. Even if it looked like it hurt. Eventually, he did end up stopping when it caused him pain, because he couldn't bear to see Sadie in tears at seeing him in such a state.

The doctors had said he would only last about three weeks without a transplant. Two months had passed and he was still there, his old self still clinging on as much as it could in the midst of machines, medicine, pain, and exhaustion.

Ronaldo had offered to give him a haircut, having noticed his hair had grown enough to fill his whole head, even if it wasn't as bright or thick as before. Lars had insisted he didn't need one.

"Guys, when I die, I want to be cremated and then have you two smoke my ashes. That way you both can get high on life," he had joked one afternoon, "But seriously, don't fucking smoke, I'll hate you for it," he teased again, giving as big of a smile as he could in the hopes it would distract from the sadness he could sense coming off of them.

One evening, a week before he was supposed to turn twenty-four, Lars seemed more out of it than in days past, unable to get up whatsoever, and Ronaldo had crawled into his bed with him.

"Ronnie, you've been looking after my tree, right?", he had rasped, not able to speak much with the respirator he'd been given.

"Every other day, like you said," Ronaldo had mumbled, gently rubbing the other's back, as if it would distract from the burning monster his chest had become in the last few weeks.

"Good. I want you to let me know when it starts growing fruit. It should happen any time now."

"I'll let you know the moment I see it, I promise," Ronaldo smiled.

Lars cracked a grin, eyes looking weary, "Good, good...then I can tell Buck Dewey to eat my ass."

Ronaldo laughed softly, amazed that what had started as a silly joke had become an important part of Lars' life, and curled his arms around the other gently, "Rest, my Prince of Pears."

"Alright, humble servant," Lars had murmured, voice starting to drift, "G'night, Ronnie," and he slipped into unconsciousness, too exhausted to fight it.

Once Ronaldo was sure he was asleep, he had left, his own exhaustion too much to ignore.

That next morning, he had decided to check on the tree.

Bright golden yellow pears had grown in the bottom boughs, and Ronaldo's heart leaped. Lars did it! He grew a pear! A whole tree of pears!

Ronaldo had to tell him. No, he had to _show_ him.

Picking the biggest pear he could find on the tree, Ronaldo had rushed to the hospital, predicting the triumph that would be on Lars' face when he saw his success at gardening.

However, when he arrived, his legs froze in place as he saw Sadie sobbing in the hallway, right by Lars' room.

Not even addressing her, even when she addressed him through her tears, he opened the door to the room, and his heart froze and shattered, and time seemed to stop as he saw the room was empty.

When everything froze in that moment, he finally heard Sadie.

" _He's gone._ "

* * *

"You died on a Tuesday morning," Ronaldo had spoken to his friend, tears blurring his vision of the city, and gave a weak laugh, "You hated Mondays, because that's when you had to work the longer hours at the doughnut shop. It...was probably the day with the nicest weather all week...s-so fuck you for picking such a nice day to leave."

Not bothering to rub at his eyes, Ronaldo sat up against the tree trunk, "We showed your parents this place that afternoon," he mumbled, and his voice caught, "W-we told them how it was your favorite place in the world, th-that you came up here everyday to look after a silly little tree. You in your piercings and stupid snake shirts, coming up to look after a tree like some old man. W-We thought it was so silly...so out of character of you...but you seemed so happy when you were up here, that I guess it really wasn't about the whole thing with Buck after all. Y-you just wanted to make something grow...to make something positive from a negative..."

Ronaldo's throat caught again, and he let his tears fall, "We buried you here on your birthday, under the tree...we knew it was what you wanted-" he stopped to give a shuddering breath as his chest heaved, "You thought this place, being up here, looking over all of the city, was so beautiful, you never said it outright, but...Sadie and I knew how you felt about it..."

Tears dripping onto his shirt, Ronaldo gave a quiet sob, "I just don't understand why you couldn't have waited for me and Sadie to be there...t-to say goodbye, to see you off. You were all alone in there. I could have held your hand, _I could have held you_ ," he cried, "I could have shown you that goddamn pear...You could have laughed about it, so you could make well with your promise to 'grow a pear'..."

He screwed his eyes shut, and dug his hands against them in frustration, "I don't even understand why you had to leave us like this! You...you complete jackass!," Ronaldo sobbed angrily against his palms, "You couldn't just let yourself ever rest, or take it easy! You could have stayed longer! Was your pride...was it so much to you that you ended up destroying yourself like this? Maybe with another week they'd have gotten you a donor or maybe those medicines would have started working! You had so much time left here," he whimpered, "You were so young, and you had so much to do...so much to do with _me_...And now I have to do it _all alone!_ ", he roared angrily at the polished stone in the grass to his right.

" _I'm sorry..._ ", he could almost hear Lars say apologetically.

"I would have given up everything; my blog, my photography, my theories; if it meant I could have kept you," he whispered.

" _Don't say that,_ " Lars had whispered sadly, " _You shouldn't have to give up the things you love for me._ "

"I loved _you!_ ", Ronaldo had sobbed, "All those things I could have replaced! But I can never replace you!"

No voice answered the despaired pleas to return in Ronaldo's head, and the man was left to shed his tears on the hill as the warm breeze blew by. Some of the white blossoms fell like snow, and one landed on his leg. He picked it up in one hand, letting it rest delicately on his fingers.

"Is the city still beautiful after all this time?", he then asked, "I-It's been almost two years..."

" _It is._ "

"...I loved you..." Ronaldo had repeated.

" _I know...I loved you too."_

Wiping his face, Ronaldo lay on the grass, staring up into the tree as sunlight filtered through the boughs like sparkling stars twinkling in the heavens, wondering if Lars was up there, getting one of the best views of Beach City he possibly could.


	7. Tea Time

**Tea Time**

* * *

"What...is this?", Ronaldo gave a confused look at the steaming cup that had been wordlessly placed in his hands.

"Uh, tea, duh?", Lars sneered, settling back in his spot on the couch after having been absent from the living room for several minutes after insisting he'd be back in a second.

"Well, of course it's tea," Ronaldo muttered, looking at the hand painted tea set Lars had set out, "But why did you give me it? I didn't even ask for tea."

Scowling, Lars groaned, picking up his abandoned video game controller, "Why are you asking so many questions? Can't you just be dumb like always and say thank you?"

"Hey," Ronaldo frowned, "How do I know it's not poisoned, or that you peed in it?"

"Dude, I literally just poured it right in front of you!", Lars screeched irritably, "I poured my own cup right after it! Just drink your goddamned tea!"

Ronaldo sighed, "Fine," and took a sip. He winced slightly, a little overwhelmed by how strong it was, "It's um-", he coughed, "A little bitter. Do you have any sugar or-"

"It's meant to be bitter, that's how you're supposed to drink it," Lars rolled his eyes, passing over the little sugar carafe, and continued mashing buttons, blasting at enemy soldiers, "Pick up your controller again, I'm getting my ass kicked here."

"Oh, right right," Ronaldo mumbled as soon as he'd stirred in a desirable amount of sugar, and took a sip, finding it satisfactory, and got back to playing the game, only picking up his cup every so often. After a bit, his cup was empty, and before he could even say anything, Lars was already refilling it, balancing his game controller on his knee.

"So...what's with the tea again?"

"None of your biz, just take it as it's given," Lars mumbled, staring at the screen.

"What is it some deep dark secret?", Ronaldo teased.

"No, " Lars whined, still focused on the game, "It's just...embarrassing."

"Tea? Embarrassing? Por Quoi?"

"Egh," the other groaned, pausing the game, "If you laugh, I'll murder you," he warned.

"Go on~", Ronaldo coaxed, smiling smugly.

Lars folded his arms, and lay back on the couch, feet facing his friend, "I have a system when I get home from work. I take my shoes off, put on house slippers, chill until 6:00, and then I make tea. I make enough for my dad to have when he gets back from work at 6:30, and if I have someone over, i.e. you, I make enough tea for them to have too. Then it's 7:30 dinner, 8:30 shower, 10:00 evening tea, and then I just screw around until I wanna go to bed...usually 3 AM," he mumbled, and sat up, pouring himself another cup of tea.

"And this is every day?" Ronaldo leaned back, watching his friend breath in the steam from the tea.

"Every day," Lars mumbled, and took a long sip, "Except weekends. Then I have tea when I wake up."

"What is it with you and making tea?", he asked with amusement.

Lars gave a shrug, rolling his shoulders back, "It just relaxes me, man. The whole process, getting everything set up on the table, getting the water boiled and stuff...I guess there's somethin' therapeutic about it for me."

"You break into conniptions over Animal Crossing, but putting a pot of tea in the microwave soothes you," Ronaldo snorted.

The other looked quite offended, " _Microwave_? What are you implying?"

"Nothing! I just figured you put the pot in the microwave, and put the teabag in-"

" _Teabag_?", Lars scoffed, "I do not use teabags, Ronaldo, I only use the finest loose leaf tea you can get around here! "

"Alright alright," Ronaldo rolled his eyes, imitating Lars' snark with good humor, "Take it down a notch, tea snob."

Lars stared at him indignantly as if he'd been struck across the face, "Excuse me for not wanting to drink the equivalent of horse piss! I don't even want to think how the hell you've been preparing tea all your life!"

"Um...in the microwave? Like everyone else-?"

Staring at him with a stiff, furious gaze, Lars stood up, "Alright. That's it. Get in the kitchen."

"What?"

"Kitchen," he glared again, "If I can help it, you are going to see how to _really_ make tea."

"But we're almost at the final level of the game-"

"Forget the game, I'm teaching you a life lesson here, Fryman."

"Tea is life?"

"Tea is life," Lars affirmed seriously, and was grabbing the tea infuser, a bag resting on a rack among others like it, and Lars looked at the labeling on it, and muttered something Ronaldo couldn't understand, putting it next to the infuser, and Lars put a new kettle on, filling it with water.

"You better be paying close attention," Lars looked at his friend sternly, "I don't want to have to repeat myself."

"Lars, you can calm down a little, it's not like I drink tea that much anyway."

"Oh but you will," Lars grinned smugly, "Once you realize what it takes to make it right, you will."

* * *

"So when did you become such an _expert_ on tea?", Ronaldo asked as they sat at the kitchen table, taste testing the batch of orange blossom Oolong they'd made together.

"Expert is too modest," Lars snickered.

"Fine, _master_ of tea?", he giggled.

"Better," he nodded, still smirking, "My family's a bunch of tea lovers, not much else to say. My grandparents love tea, my dad loves tea, my mom loved tea...it's like genetics, man."

For sake of complimenting the tea, Lars had set out freshly cut orange slices, and because Ronaldo had pointed out the digestive biscuits in the cupboard as being really delicious (and Lars agreed, they were), he put them out on the table between the tea set and fruit.

"This set looks pretty fancy," Ronaldo admitted, looking at the hand painted detail on the cups, "Where'd you get them from?"

"My mom painted it," Lars admitted, "She liked making me tea and letting me use the cups. My dad would always warn me not to drop it, or I'd get in trouble with mom...She was always pretty chill about it though."

"Yeah, I remember she was pretty cool," Ronaldo admitted, remembering Lars' mother from when they were kids.

"Yeah, she was," Lars sighed. It had been so long since she passed, but he still missed her terribly. He sometimes still thought about her when he used her cups.

"...was she the one who taught you how to make tea?"

"Yeah," Lars smiled a little, seeming to brighten, "She told me all about why it was so important to drink this stuff, and why it was so important you made it right. And boy am I glad she taught me how to do it. Because before then, I hated tea," he snorted.

Ronaldo laughed, munching on another biscuit, and mouth caked in crumbs, he asked, "So what are the benefits to drinking tea so much? I mean, I drink green tea in cans sometimes, but it's only because iced tea is a curse on human nature."

Lars laughed, "Ditto on the last thing there," and drummed his fingers on the edge of his cup as he prepared to list off all the praises of tea, "It's one of the oldest drinks in the world, and still one of the most reliable, it can help stomachaches, headaches, body pains, cramps: both menstrual and non-menstrual, promotes better sleeping habits, calms anxiety, nausea, sore throats, helps treat the flu and colds, regulates blood pressure, and it promotes community."

"Where does that last one come in?", Ronaldo asked.

Lars pointed an orange slice in his direction, "Well, we're having tea together aren't we? "

"True..."

"And this tea set my mom made has at least three cups to use," he smiled genuinely, "What's the point of always drinking your tea alone?"

"Good point," Ronaldo grinned, and they clinked their glasses together gently.

Once they had finished, Lars was hand washing the cups, the saucers, the pot, and the kettle, Ronaldo watching from the table.

"I think this is a new side of you I'm seeing, Lars?"

"What's that now?"

"You're the biggest nerd about tea in the world," he teased.

Lars snorted, "Laugh all you want blogger boy. I've got the most regulated blood pressure in Beach City."

"Animal Crossing and Army of War would beg to differ," Ronaldo teased again, and he was forced to duck when Lars chucked a digestive biscuit at his head.

Looking at the destroyed cookie, he smiled, "Remember to buy more of those the next time I come over for tea."

"We'll see," Lars cracked a tiny grin.

Evenings after work were starting to look less lonely.


	8. The Lost Boys

**The Lost Boys**

 **Content Warning: This drabble contains mentions and examples of panic and anxiety disorders, and small mentions of self harm.**

* * *

" _Lars?_ ", Ronnie piped up seconds after his friend had yelled at him and darted away.

He was answered with the basement hatch's door slamming shut with a resounding bang that echoed through the floor, and made his stomach quiver with nausea above anything else. He always felt really gross after having a fight with his friends, especially one like this. His heart was crushed over the destruction of his first paranormal discovery. When he was feeling more up to it, he'd examine the boards on the walls again, and see what force of the unnatural was behind their activity.

Of course Ronaldo knew what other people said about him. But that was because nobody else believed in the things he and Lars did. One day, all those bullies would be thanking the two, for showing them the way. Well, at least, he was _sure_ Lars believed in those things. They were friends after all right? And it had been Lars' money going to the sci-fi magazine subscriptions they shared, right?

 _Lars will come back down eventually,_ he reasoned, deciding to remain hopeful about this. After all, this was their clubhouse. And Lars still had a lot of his prized belongings here, like his taxidermy raven he'd done himself (with assistance by his dad), having found the dead bird fresh in the woods while on a walk. His telescope, the one he'd been dying to get for Christmas that last year, was still tucked in one of the boxes, and various toys he had cherished filled up a box in its entirety. Ronnie was more than certain Lars would want those back if he was fully serious on ditching him. He'd come back. They were _friends_.

The next day, he didn't return, Ronnie was fine with that. If Lars was thinking of an apology for ripping up the picture, stepping on his foot, and yelling, it would probably take some thinking over.

The next week, he didn't return. Ronnie was discouraged, but maybe Lars was just busy. It wasn't like he'd seen him at all in town. Ronnie had called his house, Lars' father picking up, explaining Lars' mother hadn't been feeling well, and that Lars was opting to stay home with her. Understandable. Ronnie would give him a week.

The next month, he didn't return. Lars sure was being stubborn. He was always stubborn, but he came around in the end. Their fights had been worse before, and they made up as fast as they could.

The next week into that month, Ronnie learned Lars' mother died. His chest hurt, knowing he was going to miss her, she'd always been so nice, but he could only imagine how much more Lars missed her. Ronnie would take a break from being annoyed at Lars' absence from their clubhouse. Maybe Lars was willing to apologize when Ronnie visited his house for the wake.

Lars didn't even come downstairs from his room. He shouted through the door only himself and Sugar were allowed to stay in there, and that Ronnie should just go away.

The week after that, Ronnie visited again, figuring Lars' anger was out of grief. Lars threatened him to go away before he made Sugar bite him. The other boy cried and ran home.

When September came and school started again, Lars didn't even speak to Ronnie on the first day of school. Instead, on the second day, he pushed him in a puddle. And laughed when other kids crowded around to beat the snot out of little Fryman.

And it was then that Ronnie realized their explorer club was down to one member: himself.

He'd ended up crying all afternoon in the lighthouse basement, moving all of Lars' things into a pile, so when that traitor felt the desire to get his stuff back, he could darn well take it. Ronnie couldn't care less about impressing people now, or trying to maintain a friendship with someone like Lars.

There were a few things Ronnie _did_ secretly decide to keep. Lars had brought several books to put on the shelves, most of them comic books, or graphic novels, or a few wordy stories. One that had stood out was an old copy of the book Peter Pan. Lars had owned that copy since he was a baby, but never seemed to ever open it, or read it. He wouldn't miss it. Besides, after what he said and did to Ronnie, the boy wasn't sure Lars deserved to have it back.

Ronnie had secretly dreamed that when they had their club, they could be like The Lost Boys, explore their world, and not worry about rules. Just good old fashioned adventure. When they were very small, they had both dearly loved the story, and had always teased with each other that Ronnie was the title character, 'The Boy Who Never Grew Up', and Lars proclaimed himself as Captain Hook because 'pirates are cool'. It seemed only fitting they had those labels now, considering that Hook and Peter Pan were not friends whatsoever.

Having found pictures of Sugar, Ronnie decided that he would hold them ransom, to burn later. He hated that wretched snake now, thinking of how mushy and happy Lars got around her, but then he had to make her a weapon of fear. Ronnie knew that the animal had no teeth, but he knew, from watching Lars, those bites could really hurt. And Lars would gladly use her to hurt Ronnie, it seemed.

Ronnie still couldn't understand what made Lars so mean. He wasn't like this before.

He was looking at one of the pictures of Sugar in his hand, the snake's dark beady eyes staring straight ahead, as if she was trying to entrance him.

Maybe the snake was what made Lars the way he was! She must have brainwashed him!

Ronnie had been coming up with several theories as to how the snake had changed Lars to evil, even in bed that night. Even for the next several weeks. And after several weeks, it wasn't just Lars he was concerned about (as a matter of fact, he stopped caring about Lars), he was concerned about all of Beach City. All of the country even.

Snakes were not to be trusted. Snake _people_ even more so.

* * *

The road slush in late November was incredibly unpleasant to walk over to get to high school, and Ronaldo regretted not wearing a thicker pair of socks as the cold wet residue of the flurrystorm they'd had two days before seeped through the pores of his tennis shoes. At least his camo jacket kept him relatively warm and dry.

It had been well over three weeks since the Halloween fiasco in the lighthouse basement, and for the most part, Ronaldo had pushed it to the back of his mind. He was still wicked curious about that gem that had been inhabiting the walls, and would have to beg Steven to see it later, once it had 'rested', whatever that meant.

He'd not once spoken to Lars since. On the off chance they passed in the hallway, they'd stare past each other. Ronaldo wouldn't flinch, and Lars wouldn't scowl. It was much less awkward, true, but after everything that happened, Ronaldo felt like some sort of closure needed to be made. Somehow.

While he was thinking about it lightly on the way to school, crossing the courtyard, his thoughts were interrupted by a hard shove.

It wasn't hard enough to knock him down, Ronaldo was admittedly a pretty big guy, and whatever attacked him wasn't that strong. He braced his foot on the ground, and whirled around to face his attacker, seeing Lars glaring him straight in the face.

"What the hell were _these_ doing in your lighthouse office?", the attacking teen had growled, holding up faded polaroid pictures of Sugar the snake. Several notes had been made on them in Sharpie.

"I-...wait...what were _you_ doing in _my_ office?", Ronaldo glared back, "That's private property and you-"

"This shit is my property!", Lars waved the Polaroids in his face, "I was looking for these for years!"

"You went into my private study and rooted through my drawers-", Ronaldo was getting angrier by the second.

"You wanna know what else I found?", Lars grinned mirthlessly, absolutely furious, " _My_ copy of Peter Pan! The one _my_ mom gave to me, and I was looking for an even _longer_ time! I know you stole it on purpose because it wasn't with the rest of my books!"

"You went through my _drawers_?", Ronaldo nearly roared, near enraged that this punk had the nerve to sneak into his private office and go through his things.

"Those are _our_ drawers! _I_ helped you set up that stupid clubhouse remember?", Lars argued back, getting in his face again, "I have every right in that damn lighthouse, and you know it!"

"You abandoned it! Like everything else we shared! Those pictures therefore-" Ronaldo paused, and yanked them right out of Lars' hand, "Are mine!"

Lars shoved Ronaldo hard again, "GIVE ME THOSE!"

"No! You didn't want them anymore! You had all the time in the world before to go and get them, but you never did! So they're mine now! _My_ theories, _my_ Explorer Club!"

Giving an enraged shriek, Lars grabbed at Ronaldo's arm, trying to force it down so he could grab the Polaroids of his pet. In return, Ronaldo gave him a hard shove to force him back.

This only resulted in a series of hard shoves between the two, until Ronaldo slipped on an icy slush puddle, and as he fell, yanked onto Lars' arm, pulling him down with him. Lars cursed shrilly at Ronaldo, and hit at his chest, pulling his hair, shoving snow against his glasses, and trying to twist his wrist to make him let go of his pictures. A handful of students were gathering at a distance to watch the fight continue, as Lars wildly thrashed at his former friend.

Ronaldo shouted at Lars to fuck off, that he wasn't an explorer club member anymore, that he was dead to him, and if Lars wanted his stuff so badly, he'd have to earn it. When Lars shoved more snow in his face, Ronaldo saw red, and without even looking, grabbed a huge handful of frozen slush and ice, and slammed it straight into Lars' face like a wet, rocky snowball. "I MEAN IT, LARS."

Lars went down like a paper doll, screeching in shock, and crumpled to the side, allowing Ronaldo to shove him off, and onto the ground. He was cold and soaked to the bone, and there was no doubt some ice, twigs, and gravel stuck in his hair.

Before he could pocket the soaked, wrinkled pictures, he froze as he heard ragged breathing coming from the shivering, slush soaked mess that was Lars, who hadn't moved from his spot on the ground. A sob suddenly broke from his throat, and Ronaldo felt a strange twist in his gut.

A few students had crept over, one gasping as they saw a bleeding cut on the bridge of Lars' nose, his skin having broken open when the ice and slush ball slammed into his face. Not immediately noticing Lars' hyperventilating as he cried, a few assumed he was in pain from the snowball.

Kiki Pizza spoke with worry to her art classmate, "Hey, Lars are you alright?", and leaned down to touch his shoulder.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!", he shrieked, tears and snot running down his face, "D-Don't touch me!"

The girl backed away, looking visibly spooked, but still kept a close watch. She glanced at Ronaldo, as did a few other students.

Ronaldo was too frozen in shock to react, but immediately knew Lars wasn't crying from the snowball. He wasn't crying because he was sad.

He was crying because he was _panicked_ ; terrified even. Lars was sobbing and gasping for breath, hands gripping at his own arms in a tight-as-death grasp while he sat on his knees on the wet ground. He was too shaken to even move, choking on his own sobs and air-greedy attempts to breathe.

Buck, Jenny, and Sour Cream all walked over to see if they could help, asking if he needed a bandage or anything for the cut on his nose, and Lars panicked further. They were all watching him, _God, couldn't they stop watching? Oh god they were going to laugh at him, what a freak he was, just let him die, he wanted to die, he hated this so much, he hated them all, why wouldn't they just leave?_

Ronaldo immediately snapped at the three to back away, to let Lars breathe.

" _You're_ the one who hit him with a snowball," Sour Cream pointed out, but did as Ronaldo commanded.

"He's not crying about that, he's having a panic attack for godsakes!", he groaned, and snapped at everybody to clear the area, to give Lars space. At first he wasn't sure they were going to listen that much to the guy who was just brawling with the teen on the ground, but they did as told, and walked away, still giving curious, nervous glances at the scene.

Lars was still sobbing, having regained his breath a little more, but was still hyperventilating, and shivering violently, both from the panic and the cold.

Ronaldo awkwardly stepped over, "L-Lars, hey. D-Do you want your pictures back?"

A whimper came out of Lars' throat, and he choked weakly, "Yeah."

"I'll give you everything in my office back, just...breathe," Ronaldo mumbled, "I'm sorry I-"

"Don'tdon'tdon't," Lars whimpered again, not wanting to dig up any sort of drama with Ronaldo anymore, still refusing to look up, "Stoppitstoppit. Just stoppit."

"O-OK...why don't we just...take a minute, and then try to stand back up, OK?"

Lars didn't respond, still trying to keep his breathing in check. Every several seconds or so, it seemed he lost the ability to, and gave a panicky gasp for air.

Ronaldo had been glad that he'd known the symptoms for panic attacks, at least a select few symptoms. It wasn't anything he himself had, but he knew Peedee did, and after a handful of incidents, Ronaldo had decided he would be the good big brother and at least look into how to help a person suffering from one. Up until now, he hadn't thought of Lars suffering from any panic or anxiety related disorders, but with everything Lars had feared about as a child, ridicule, people, being judged, and what Sadie told him about how he got lonely around people a lot, it made sense.

After two minutes, Ronaldo sighed, "Alright. Are you ready to try and get up?"

Lars didn't respond.

"...alright...I'm going to help you up, OK?", he spoke, voice calm, and Lars visibly tensed, and Ronaldo assured, "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just going to help you stand up, so you don't sit on the wet icy ground much longer."

Ronaldo's hand gently wrapped around Lars' forearm, and though the teenager flinched at first, he didn't screech or have another panic attack. Ronaldo helped him up and gently kept a hand on his shoulder, "Can you breathe OK now?"

"Y-Yeah...yeah," he mumbled, breath still short as he wiped at his eyes, getting a bit of blood on his hand.

A student had told a teacher the two were fighting, and said teacher was rushing out , surprised to see two teenage boys soaked to the bone, one in tears, the other comforting him, instead of beating the living snot out of each other like had been expected.

"Was there a fight? Is this true?", the teacher frowned as she saw the two, then the blood on Lars' face.

"N-no m'am, just a misunderstanding with snowballs," Ronaldo spoke, voice shaking a bit. He'd feel bad if Lars got in trouble now, and he himself did not want to have another 'conference' with the principal, and risk losing access to the school's internet.

The teacher instead escorted the two to the nurses' office, insisting they'd be given slips excusing their tardiness to class however long it took to get Lars' face cleaned, and both boys getting sets of fresh dry clothes.

Ronaldo luckily had a spare outfit in his locker leftover from gym class, and was comfortable wearing that. Lars had no clothes, and would have to wait for his father or older sister to drop some off.

"...are you going to be alright?", Ronaldo decided to ask as the other sat on a chair in the nurse's office, still wearing his soaked clothes, but his face cleaned and a bandage where the cut was.

"...I wasn't trying to break into your stuff," Lars mumbled, nose sounding plugged, "I was just trying to get my stuff back."

"Why didn't you do that earlier? Like, years earlier?"

"I knew you were there almost all the time. I didn't want to talk to you if I went there," he spoke quietly, still sounding pretty shaken up.

"...Oh," Ronaldo mumbled.

"Yeah."

"...Sorry for-"

"I don't care about the snowball alright?", Lars interrupted irritably.

"...I was going to say, stealing the book. I forgot your mom gave that to you," Ronaldo mumbled, "I was going to return it, but then I got mad at you and decided to keep it."

Lars glared at him a little, eyes twinkling as if he was about to break into tears again. Before Ronaldo could even respond, to prompt him not to cry, Lars just rubbed at his eyes until they were dry, and he continued scowling blankly at the wall in front of him.

"...You look miserable."

"I am miserable," Lars mumbled.

"I mean in your clothes. You're soaked to the bone."

"I don't have anything else until Miriam comes by," he huffed.

"There's towels in the cabinet below the sink right here," Ronaldo shrugged, "And an extra blanket for that bed."

Lars' eyes flickered over to the stack of towels and the blanket, and then glared at Ronaldo, as if to tell him to avert his gaze, and grabbed for the items.

When Ronaldo closed his eyes, covering them, Lars stripped down to everything on his person, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and wrapped himself in the towels, then sat on the nurse's bed, pulling the blanket up around himself, and found it relatively cozy. Once he was comfortable, he gave an audible sigh, and Ronaldo was allowed to look again.

One of Lars' arms was out from under the blanket cloak, and in the bleachy white light of the office, Ronaldo was quick to notice and feel concern over several repetitive deliberate scars along the tan skin of his former friend's forearm. They all looked pretty faded, not recent, but their presence in general was worrisome.

Unable to stop looking, Ronaldo asked, voice quiet, "Why did you do that to yourself?"

Lars quickly caught what the other was staring at, and his stomach tightened. He looked away and continued staring blankly at the wall before he answered softly,

"You're supposed to be Peter Pan. You would know more than anyone else how hard it is to grow up..."

Before Ronaldo could express further concern, or sympathy, the nurse walked in, "Ronaldo, you're free to go to your class. Lars you just stay here, alright darlin'?"

"Mhm," the naked boy nodded, looking absolutely exhausted.

Ronaldo sighed, and was about to say 'See you later' to Lars, but decided, for now, it was better not to say anything.

Their status as friends was unchanged as far as he knew. It all would depend on what happened when Lars came to pick the rest of his stuff up from his office. He didn't know if it would end up that their friendship was truly over forever, or if there was a chance it could heal like those scars on Lars' arms that would worry Ronaldo for the entirety of his day, and long into the night.


	9. Nosocomephobia Revisited

**Nosocomephobia Revisited**

 **Content warning: mild mentions of death, none actually in the chapter.**

* * *

Lars regretted not having brought anything to do while he sat in the hospital waiting room. He had no intention of touching the magazines stacked on the end table (He was not even interested in home design or gardening, thank you very much). He had brought his headphones to listen to, but he couldn't decide on anything to listen to, nothing seemed distracting enough to zone him out from his anxieties.

For the last four days, he'd mentally tried to prepare himself for this, to repeat that yes, he could be worried, but everything was going to be fine, the doctors knew what they were doing, and this procedure was going to go well.

Lars checked his phone, seeing Sadie had messaged him.

 _How's it going? Ronaldo ok?_

He texted back, _It's fine. They just wheeled him in to surgery._

 _He wasn't freaking out was he?_

 _No but he was telling me that if he died or if the doctors injected alien parasites in him while he was out, I could avenge him lol_ , Lars managed to snicker a bit, thinking of his friend handing him his laptop over, all sagelike. He had said that in the event of his death, Lars would have access to all of his passwords to continue on his legacy.

 _LOL ok lemme know when he's out and ill come visit after i close up the shop with Steven._

 _Cool. sorry for skipping out btw_

She responded pretty quickly, _its fine, he needs someone to see after waking up_

Lars still wasn't 100% sure why he had volunteered to wait it out at the hospital. Yeah, he and Ronaldo were datemates, but he could have just been like Sadie and waited until after work to see him, and the Fryman family could have easily had the shop closed for the day out of support for the eldest child. But Lars had to suddenly pipe up, "You don't have to close the shop, I'll keep tabs on him for the day!", like a complete kiss-ass. Lars was kicking himself on the inside. On the other hand, he probably would have been a lot more nervous if he was stuck in there with Ronaldo's father and little brother, the latter probably would have been a nervous little pile of whining and snot, and Ronaldo's dad would have tried to 'play it cool' with his older son's friend. Good grief.

About four months ago, Ronaldo had been having shortness of breath, sudden exhaustion, and broke into sweats. Lars had expressed concern, and Ronaldo insisted he was fine. When he started having an irregular heartbeat and some chest pain, that was when he had started to worry about himself, and when he had suddenly passed out one morning, his father had no choice but to take him to their family doctor.

After a week of tests, questions, and examinations, they'd found a congenital heart defect that had been undetected until then. Peedee had a bit of a minor episode when his dad had casually noted that it was something that seemed to run in the family, since he had suffered from it as a child, and his father and grandfather too. Ronaldo was just relieved it wasn't aliens and their wiretapping technology in his system.

The doctor had continued on to say that in order for the defect to be repaired, he would need surgery, and Ronaldo had admittedly panicked momentarily, not liking the idea of anyone cutting him open. But quickly regaining the understanding this would be necessary if he wanted to have a healthy life, and continue his passion of exploration, Ronaldo agreed to it.

Lars was visibly stunned when the other told him about the surgery, only four days in advance, and asked him why he didn't tell him sooner.

"You hate hospitals. I didn't want you to worry about me," Ronaldo had admitted while they had sat on the Fryman family's living room couch, watching TV.

It was a simple procedure, Ronaldo had explained, and that once it was over, he'd be fine.

 _But anything regarding such a vital organ isn't going to be that simple, Ron_. Lars had countered, starting to list off all the possibilities of things that could go wrong, and Ronaldo had to shut him up fairly quickly. He was well aware that there was risks. Any operation had its risks. But Ronaldo had always lived off of facing the risky and venturing into the unknown. He'd stay relatively brave about this too.

Lars had taken up the invitation to stay overnight the night before the surgery, to ease Ronaldo's supposed nervousness, and in his case, to ease his own worries. They bonded over blasting monsters on the TV screen, surfing the internet, and even laughing over stupid questions sent to Ronaldo's blog. Following Ronaldo's announcement regarding his surgery, an anonymous commenter had posted ' _well maybe if you didn't weigh so much, you wouldn't have had this problem_ ', and Ronaldo was all too smug in presenting the definition of 'congenital', and informing them that he had in fact been involuntarily losing weight because of this trouble. And Lars secretly felt a little bad he hadn't noticed more of the symptoms the other had been having, wondering if he should have been noticing the other's shirts and shorts becoming looser and baggier.

Almost all their worries had faded away when they both dozed off in front of the TV while the X-Files was on.

Back in the hospital waiting room, a nurse said everything was going well, and Ronaldo was still in surgery. Lars was still unable to shake his anxieties, and decided to take a break, and went outside, deciding he needed a coffee and a smoke. In the designated smoking area by the coffee shop, he tried to let his limbs relax a little, which they did, but his head certainly wouldn't.

Lars had always hated hospitals. Ronaldo wasn't lying about that. Lars had _despised_ hospitals. He didn't mind doctors in a doctor's office, but he couldn't stand doctors in a hospital.

Every time he walked into a hospital, his mind would always replay the same feelings of despair and fear he had when he was a young boy.

When Lars was still small, his mother had grown very sick. Every so often, she'd seem to get better, then she would get worse weeks later.

Around the time Lars and Ronnie had their fight, she had been getting worse and was sent to the hospital. Lars had initially thought she would be alright. But then he saw everything. The tubes, the machines, her in that bed, looking helpless.

He'd visited every day, watching her get weaker and weaker. More and more machines seemed to be coming in without any explanation. More medicines, and more nurses coming and going.

And before he could even comprehend it all, she was gone, and Lars couldn't even say goodbye as he was sent out of the room, machines blaring and doctors rushing.

He didn't want to even imagine what would happen if the same thing happened to Ronaldo. The boy had basically been his first friend as a child, and now they were each other's datemate. If he lost Ronaldo, he would have nobody he could text at night with his half-asleep drowsy thoughts. He had Sadie, sure, but with Ronaldo, he felt most comfortably expressing his own hidden weirdness. Like his thoughts about scorpions being part cyborg, and that he was on a mission to rid the neighborhoods of tacky lawn ornaments. The stuff he never discussed with Sadie.

He would have nobody to test his food on. Ronaldo would eat absolutely anything, and get so excitable over it, it was something Lars loved to see, someone who loved another hobby of his that much.

He wouldn't have anyone to lay on with such a comfortable body as Ron did.

Or someone who was as warm to cuddle.

Or someone who would cheer him up with the most delightful of laughs.

Or someone whose glasses he could steal, and admire their face without.

Lars didn't want the people he cared about to disappear in a place that was supposed to help them.

He soon began thinking back to before he lost everything. How whenever he visited this place, it would be for occasions where he wouldn't have to weep. Rather, where he could laugh.

When he was younger, Ronnie, the more outgoing one, was often prone to getting himself into lots of trouble, and would often end up in the hospital for things like broken arms, legs, concussions, tonsils, or a baby brother. And every time, Lars would come visit him, activities on hand so they wouldn't get bored. They would read comic books together, Lars would read from their favorite books, and they would eat popsicles until the box was empty and their hands and mouths were sticky. And when it was time to go home, Lars would be sad only because he couldn't be with his friend until the next day.

After what seemed like forever, he was jostled from his thoughts by a nurse calling out his friend's name, in case anyone was there to see him. Lars stiffly got up, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"So the surgery went fine, no problems," she listed, "He's awake in recovery right now, and after he gets some rest, we'll keep him here overnight to make sure everything is normal, and then we'll have him out of here by tomorrow afternoon."

"OK, cool," Lars shrugged, appearing calm on the outside, but was crushed with relief on the inside, "Can I see him?"

"Of course," she smiled, and led him down the hallway. The quietness of the hall disappeared as they got nearer to the door, and Lars could hear Ronaldo complaining loudly.

"What do you mean no ghost hunting?", he whined to the doctor, looking indignant.

"I'm sorry Mr. Fryman, but I highly advise against any rigorous activity for the next eight weeks. You don't want to over exert yourself so much until your heart has a full chance to recover."

Ronaldo grumbled under his breath, "Right right, fine," he sighed, and crossed his arms, pouting like a kid. It took him a second to notice Lars had poked his head in, "Oh! Lars!", he smiled.

"You look awake," the other smirked a bit as he walked in, over to the bed, sitting on the edge, "You're not tired?"

"I am," Ronaldo shrugged, "But I can sleep later. How long have you waited?"

"Five hours," Lars rolled his shoulders, "I was in the waiting room for a bit, then they said you were still in surgery so I went out to get coffee and a smoke, and came back."

"Oh," he yawned, "Sorry to make you wait so long."

"Yeah, fuck your heart," Lars chuckled, and glanced at Ronaldo's hospital gown, "Can I see your scar?"

"Yeah, just don't touch it," Ronaldo snickered, lifting his gown up, "It's still tender."

Lars looked over the bright red line right down the middle of the other's chest, and grinned, "What a beaut."

"I'm afraid to laugh and break it open," Ronaldo admitted.

"So I can't tickle you now?", Lars smirked, and scooted over, laying back so he was right on the edge of the mattress, and let his cheek rest against Ronaldo's soft chest, "You're warm."

"I think that's from me breaking into a sweat earlier. I didn't react too well to the first medicine they put me on."

"Really?", Lars frowned, sitting up, "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," he assured, shoving Lars back down gently, "Don't you worry about me. I'm not gonna disappear in here."

Lars felt a twinge in his chest, knowing Ronaldo was addressing his fear of hospitals. He sighed, "I know you aren't," and reached an arm across the other's soft tummy, giving a squeeze, "If you die, I'll dance on your grave and fuck your corpse."

"All at once?"

"Yes."

Ronaldo gave a snort, then slapped his boyfriend's head, "Jerk."

"What?", Lars laughed.

"I told you not to make me laugh."

"Sorry," he snorted, and kissed Ronaldo's chest right over his heart, feeling how warm the other was on his lips. He was so glad he could feel him there, it made his fears melt away almost instantly.

During a lull in their conversation, Sadie had texted Lars, asking for an update.

He had sent a picture of themselves grinning.

 _Everything's Great._


	10. First Meeting

**First Meeting**

* * *

Having been immersed in creating what he hoped would be his own telescope out of Legos, Ronnie hadn't initially showed much surprise when the preschool teacher had announced they would be having a new student come in that day. He didn't really interact much with the other children, not out of spite or fear, he just saw no reason to. He was perfectly happy by himself, with his toys and books.

Sometimes the teacher expressed worry that Ronnie was going to have a hard time making friends, and the boy could remember his father's words in response being 'he's just socially independent'. Ronnie had no idea what any of it meant, but it made him feel important in his father's eyes.

At this age, Ronnie would be lucky. He wouldn't have to deal with bullies, just kids who sometimes got mean about sharing their toys, or taking turns in games. Nobody ever made fun of him for his big round glasses or his curly hair, or his suspenders which he wore every day. He liked dressing like that, it made him feel grown up.

A short while before learning time, after Ronaldo's telescope had toppled and he had cried, he sulked in his little plastic chair at the activity table. The teacher wiped his tears, and told him he could rebuild it later, and to come sit down on the puzzle mat with the others for story time.

The door to the classroom opened halfway through 'Where the Wild Things Are', and perhaps the tiniest child Ronnie had ever seen shyly walked in. And Ronnie immediately noticed something worth being excited over, the koalas on their over sized sweater, and the stuffed lemur in their arms.

"Boys and girls, I'd like you all to meet our new friend. Would you like to tell everyone your name, honey?"

The child peered shyly around the room, eyes so dark and wide, they were almost mystical, and mumbled, "Lars.", but his 'r's sounded like 'w's and it came out sounding like 'Lauws'.

"Lars," the teacher repeated to clarify it to the children, smiling, "Would you also like to tell us where you came from? You came from very far away, didn't you?"

The child nodded, "China," they chirped, and buried their face against their stuffed toy again.

The teacher smiled to the class, "China is a very big country, isn't it? I'm sure everyone would love to hear more about it! Do any of you have any questions for Lars?"

One child piped up, "Are you a boy or a girl?"

Lars turned a little red in the face, and shuffled their feet uncomfortably, and the teacher told the child that wasn't an appropriate question to ask. Lars managed to stutter out, still looking nervous, "Boy."

"We got my brother from China, and he has black hair. Why is your hair red?", another child asked.

Lars rubbed his cheek nervously with a tiny hand, "M-my daddy has red hair."

"Wooooah," the child whispered, looking surprised.

The teacher then told the class it would be better if they asked questions regarding what Lars liked, and what his favorite things to do were. But even then, all the questions just seemed to make Lars look very nervous, and the boy was getting quieter with each answer, as if he were afraid to answer them. When another student asked why he talked funny, Lars shied up completely, even when the teacher asked him if he was alright.

Ronnie decided now was the perfect time to speak, since everyone else was done, and cheered from his spot on the floor, "Are those koalas? I LOVE KOALAS!"

A couple kids turned their heads to look at him, and Lars just stared with wide eyes, looking a little shell shocked and confused. Looking down at his own sweater, he realized what the other boy had been excited over, and yelped, "O-Oh! Yeah! K'walas!", he nodded, shaggy hair getting in his face.

The teacher warmly invited Lars to sit on the puzzle mat for the rest of the story. Lars ended up sitting a small distance away from Ronnie, a little isolated. She would show everyone the pictures once she finished the words on the page. Most of the children would make giggles at the monsters' or tiny 'roars'. Ronnie had read this story over and over at home, he knew what happened, and wasn't too surprised. What did surprise him was Lars' reactions when he saw the pictures, the tiny boy giving a soft 'wow', his eyes big and wide.

After story time, it was time for arts and crafts. Lars had quietly waited for the teacher to put the book down before he picked it back up, and looked at all the pictures in awe, like they had been the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. When the teacher kindly invited him to sit with his classmates for the activities, he shyly shuffled over, and took a seat in the corner, picking up one of the paintbrushes dipped in blue paint, and began to work away on a blank piece of paper, making big circles with hair, horns, big eyes, and sharp teeth like he'd seen in the story. To an adult, it looked like a blue scribble monster, but to Lars, it read like a masterpiece, and he kept working away on it. When he thought the blue needed something else, he grabbed the black paint, and added more and more lines.

A little girl looked over, and whined, "That's too scary!"

Lars looked at her worriedly, then at his painting,"B-But...Island monsters."

"Monsters are icky and bad!"

"Max's monsters were good," Lars tried to counter, remembering the story, and pouted as he looked at the paper.

Ronnie saw the painting, then the boy's sad face, then chirped, "Those monsters are good! They made Max king of all the Wild Things and were his friends! And this monster looks like those monsters, so it has to be good!", he reasoned, and went right back to scribbling his rocket ship.

The girl gave a whine, and went back to painting her butterfly, and Lars curiously watched Ronnie, hugging his toy lemur tightly while the teacher happily suggested putting Lars' painting on the wall.

During lunch, Ronnie ate his jelly sandwich in content silence while he dreamed in his head about rocket ships and exploring the deep depths of the earth. Lars stayed in the corner of the room, almost afraid to eat his lunch after kids pointed out the fishy smell the herring made, and how weird of a dessert he had, especially since it contained _beans_.

After lunch, the teacher led all the children outside to the little playground on the gravel, and showed Lars around, showing him the play structure, the monkey bars, the slide, the 'fort' and even the little vegetable garden the class had been growing that year. The little boy showed a bit of interest in the garden, seeing the same vegetables his mother grew at home...the home that was thousands of miles away. The new house didn't even have room for a garden. Lars' stomach knotted, and he quickly wandered away to the fort, seeing it completely empty, and climbed up the ladder to stay inside, and hope the day would end soon enough.

In the meantime, Ronnie had taken this opportunity to rebuild his Lego telescope. True, it didn't have a lens, but he was still able to peer through it, and hope his glasses would work just as fine. Mars was bound to show in the sky anytime now. He needed to test out how it worked, and decided the window in the fort would be a good place to test it out. Crawling up the ladder, he immediately noticed he wasn't alone, seeing the tiny new boy sat in the corner, looking upset, "Why are you sad?", he frowned.

"I wan' go home," the child whimpered, rubbing at his eyes, trying not to cry.

"The day's almost over-"

"No. Home," he sniffled, "China."

"...ohhhh," Ronnie nodded, and sat a space away from the boy so they were side by side, "It's not so bad here! We get to paint, and build things, and read books, and explore-"

"Exp'ore?", the boy repeated, chewing on his thumb habitually.

"Yeah! We get to see things nobody else has ever seen before! That's what exploring is!", Ronnie grinned. At least, that's what he deemed as exploration. It was a grown up word he liked to use.

"...Like Max?", Lars piped up.

"Yeah! Like Max!", Ronnie grinned, and lifted his telescope to his eye, peering at Lars through it, "I found you!", he laughed, which made the tinier child frown a little less.

Lars reached for the telescope, and the other handed it over carefully, "I'm Ronnie," he remembered to introduce himself.

The new boy repeated his name as he examined the Lego creation, chirping 'Wonnie', and peered through the mock spyglass, giving a small smile, "I'm exporing Ronnie."

"Your first discovery!", Ronnie cheered, and then grinned, "Now that you've discovered something...want to help me find Mars?"

For the first time that day, Lars grinned openly, and the two clambered about the playfort, laughing and giggling until it was time for their parents to take them home.

Ronnie decided he could handle having a friend.

And Lars decided this new place might not be so bad after all.


	11. Morning After

**Morning After**

 **Content warning: Contains mentions of alcohol and sexual activity**

* * *

The late morning sun filtered into Ronaldo's room through the blinds, and he woke slightly with a groan, trying to recollect what had happened the night before. There was a faint smell of alcohol coming from somewhere, and he was pretty sure he wasn't wearing pants. Or anything else for that matter. And neither was the one he was sharing the bed with.

 _Oh that's right, Lars and I were playing video games...and then some._

Ronaldo could feel Lars' spidery limbs wrapped around his torso, clinging like a koala on a tree, and evidently still sound asleep. There were a few choice bite marks and hickeys on his neck and shoulders, and quickly feeling his own body, Ronaldo realized he had some of his own.

 _Wow_ that was a really fun night.

Just as he was about to snuggle back under the covers with his partner, Ronaldo's phone chimed with that 'anime sparkle' ringtone he'd picked and was sort of regretting after three months with it, and he picked the phone up lazily, answering with a yawn, "H'lo?"

"Ronaldo!", Steven cheered on the other line, "Guess who's waiting outside your house for the _Sailor Galaxy_ marathon?"

A jolt of realization went up Ronaldo's spine. _Oh shit, I forgot all about that._ Giving a yelp, Ronaldo sat up, "Oh of course Steven! I'll be...just a minute!"

"What if I just let myself in through the restau-"

"NO," Ronaldo cut him off, not wanting the boy to come upstairs looking for him, "Th-the door's locked," he lied, laughing awkwardly, "I'll be down in a jiffy to let you in!", and hung up, slamming his phone down, and was in a blind panic to get out of bed, grabbing for fresh clothes.

Lars was still clinging to him, blissfully asleep, and Ronaldo had to pry him off, tucking him in, hoping he'd stay asleep a little longer so he could get him out of there before Steven saw him.

Deducing his typical t-shirt and button up wasn't going to mask the 'love bites' on his neck, Ronaldo had to take an extra thirty seconds to dab on skin tone makeup, and rushed downstairs, still a little frazzled. He probably needed a shower and brush his teeth, but he could sneak away once the marathon started.

Opening the door, he let Steven in, leading him into the living room, and set up the TV, turning it to the right channel, and set out a few basic snacks. He should have prepared better for this. Granted he was supposed to have woken up three hours earlier, but Lars evidently wore him out enough to make him sleep in.

Steven settled on the couch, "So give me the run down. Is this the original version of the series, or the revival series with sparklier outfits?"

"The original of course. But after that, they're slated run the secret five episodes that follow the alternate ending of the series where Sailor Galaxy is granted a wish, and becomes goddess of the Celestial Seas and-"

"No spoilers!", Steven whined.

"Right sorry!", Ronaldo smiled, and kicked back on the couch, feeling pride swell in his chest as Steven excitedly announced it was starting when the theme song of the anime played on the TV. Humming it to himself, Ronaldo decided he could stay and watch the pilot, out of respect for the story line, and then deal with his shower and Lars.

"So where does the alien moon owl come in? Is it this episode?", Steven asked.

"Episode two. You'll see," Ronaldo smiled, patting the boy's head, and grabbed a potato chip to nibble. It wasn't breakfast, but it would have to do until he had time to cook.

Ronaldo had gotten caught up in the show, and by episode three, forgot all about his sleeping bedmate upstairs.

Halfway through episode five, just as Sailor Galaxy met the mysterious Cardigan Mask, Steven piped up, "Wow, you invited Lars too?"

Ronaldo nearly spit out his chips, and looked over.

Oh thank god, Lars was clothed. In Ronaldo's shirt from the night before, and nothing else, but it covered him up at least. The lanky man still looked half asleep, looking quite content, a warm grin on his face as he stumbled over to the couch, not even noticing Steven.

"Hi Laaars!", Steven beamed from the couch, completely oblivious to the satisfied afterglow Lars was in, and the panic on Ronaldo's face.

Lars plopped right on Ronaldo's lap, curling against him like a sedated cat, "G'mornin baby~", he purred lowly.

Ronaldo immediately guessed who had enjoyed the alcohol the most between the two of them, and awkwardly smiled, "Er...hi Lars. Did you sleep well?"

"Oh you know I didn't," Lars grinned, blinking at him with a flirty look, "But that's OK. I liked it all anyway~"

"Woah, did you two have a sleep over?", Steven piped up innocently.

"Oh heyyyy, Steven," the drunk man sing-songed, still smiling drunkenly, "Yeaaaah, we sure did~"

"Wow," Steven laughed, "You're acting weird today, Lars. And you smell funny!"

"Well you smell _great_. An' last night, Ronnie got me right in the as-"

"ASteroid!", Ronaldo yelped, pointing at the TV, "S-Sailor Galaxy's gonna destroy the evil asteroid!"

"Oh!", Steven grinned, and watched the screen in excitement, "Wow!", he grinned.

"Woooow," Lars giggled against Ronaldo's arm as he flopped against him.

Well, there went the opportunity to get a shower in. Ronaldo was not going to risk leaving a drunk flirty punk alone in the same room as an innocent star-child. No good could come of it.

"Oh, hey!" he piped up, "Lars. Why don't you...cook us breakfast, in the kitchen, alright?", he looked to the other just as he was about to give Ronaldo's clothed shoulder a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

"Oh," Lars nodded, still pretty loopy, "Right~ Right~," and got up, a giggly mess, flouncing to the kitchen, wearing Ronaldo's shirt like a dress.

"Lars sure seems happy today," Steven smiled as he watched the anime, swinging his legs a little, "What's got him in such a nice mood?"

"Oh uh...he's just...a big fan of Sailor Galaxy," Ronaldo lied through his teeth.

"I never would have guessed," Steven laughed, "But I guess it makes sense. It's magical and pretty. Like him!"

Ronaldo flushed, laughing awkwardly, "Right."

About ten minutes later, just as the battle between the Galaxy Girls and the wicked Comet Gang reached its climax, Lars sing-songed from the kitchen, "Ronnnnn~? Could you give me a hand heeeere?"

Sighing as he got up, Ronaldo called out, "Sure thing!," and told Steven he would be back in a minute or two.

"Alright, what do you nee-AAAAAAH?", Ronaldo yelped, covering his mouth to stop himself from screaming.

Lars grinned as he sat on the Fryman family's kitchen island, completely nude, shirt left on the floor, "This counter is very cold~"

"Lars!", Ronaldo hissed quietly and hurried over, jamming his wrinkly shirt back over the other to cover him up, "There is a child in the other room!"

"We can be quiet~", Lars purred, giggling against Ronaldo's ear as he leaned forward on the counter.

"You have proven time and time again that's impossible for you," Ronaldo glared at him, "You're drunk and acting completely ridiculous."

"No I'm noooot," he whined, snuggling against Ronaldo again, even as the other shoved him off slightly.

"I'm going to continue hosting this marathon for Steven. You stay in here and wake up or deal with the horrible hangover in store for you," Ronaldo pointed at him, and walked out of the kitchen, shutting the door.

Ronaldo's words went in one ear and out the other as Lars sat there, smiley and sleepy, and hopped off the kitchen island. Fine. If Ronnie didn't want a second round, Lars could make _himself_ a delicious breakfast instead.

But first he needed coffee.

Setting up the instant coffee maker, Lars was pleasantly silent as he brewed a pot of dark roast, and poured himself a hot mug, plenty of cream and plenty of sugar. He'd rather have tea, but this would do fine.

After three sips, smiling contently at the kitchen table, basking in the late morning sun, Lars officially woke up.

And promptly spit out a mouthful of coffee.

Then screamed like a banshee.

Having heard the bloody murder scream, Ronaldo told a very spooked Steven that everything was probably fine, and he would go check on Lars. Seeing the spit coffee on his wall, and a horrified Lars frozen in his seat, he stared in shock, "What happened?"

"STEVEN IS HERE, ISN'T HE?", Lars yelped.

"Uhhh yes? For the last three hours or so?"

"Jesus Christ!", Lars yelped, "I was a complete _doofus_! Did he see me naked? Dear God _please_ tell me he didn't see me-"

"You were clothed! Be calm!"

"Oh god," Lars whined, already feeling the hangover headache, and still panicking, "Gotta grab my clothes, an' shower, and-"

"Take the other kitchen door, it's closer to the stairs," Ronaldo whispered, and shoved Lars in that direction, heading through the other door to cheerfully greet Steven, asking him what had happened in the show, and if anyone had died yet.

"Uh...I think you said earlier nobody dies..."

"I-I did?", Ronaldo flushed, "Oh...right!", he laughed, "I was uh...just joking."

About fifteen minutes later, Lars slunk down the stairs, looking quite embarrassed with himself as he wandered over to Ronaldo, "So uh...sorry about that...," he whispered, face red, "I should just uh...go home, grab some aspirin and-"

Ronaldo pulled Lars by the arm until he fell onto his lap, "Stay. It's getting good."

"But my hangover-"

"I've got aspirin. And a toilet just down the hall. You'll be fine," Ronaldo mumbled, keeping quiet while Steven was distracted by the TV.

"...Is this the original series?", Lars mumbled, deciding to get comfortable on Ronaldo's lap, using his tummy as a pillow.

"You bet it is," he grinned.

"...by the way," Lars muttered as the theme song played and Steven sang along loudly to it, "Sorry I puked on your floor up there."

"...I'll clean it up after episode 50," Ronaldo muttered, gently petting Lars' hair, Steven remaining all the more oblivious to their actions.

"...remind me never to have us do shots during video games ever again."

"Agreed."


	12. Nurse

**Nurse**

* * *

"Ronaldo? You home?", Lars called out as he entered the Fryman family home, prying his sneakers off at the door, and shaking the rainwater off his jacket, hanging it up, "I've got season three of _The X-Files_!", he announced, keeping the DVD case tucked under his arm. "Ronaldo?", he called out again, not hearing a reply.

Maybe he was up in his room?

"Ron?", Lars called up the stairs.

The sound of loud coughing was given in response, and Lars wrinkled his nose, having a bad feeling about it. Walking up the stairs, he opened Ronaldo's door, and could literally feel the ick factor of disease inside.

Ronaldo was in bed, cheeks bright red and blonde curls limp and wilty as he lay there completely useless. He coughed again, wheezing weakly, "Hi, Lars."

"Jesus Christ, are you sick?", Lars groaned, looking around the room. There was already a trash can overflowing with tissues, and what looked like some cough drops thoughtfully left there by either Peedee or Mr. Fryman.

"I'm just...a little under the weather," Ronaldo groaned, trying to sit up, but his whole body felt like weights were tying it down, so he flopped back on the mattress like a useless blob of snot.

"You're like six feet under," Lars muttered, "You look terrible."

"No really, I'm fine I-" Ronaldo's sentence was cut off by horribly loud and congested coughing, hacking, and wheezing, and Lars backed away.

"Ughhhhhh," Lars grimaced, and began to look around the room, seeing what he could do to make this less of a hazard zone. He pulled at the cord to open the blinds over the teen's bed, allowing some light to shed into the room. It was raining, but still late morning, so it was a step ahead of the hazy darkness he'd walked into.

"Let's open this window a crack, this place is stuffy," Lars grumbled, and once that was taken care of, he looked at the useless sick lump on the bed, "You look pathetic."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Ronaldo mumbled, giving a bubbly sniffle.

 _Ew._ Lars mumbled that he'd be back in a minute, and walked into the Frymans' bathroom to access their medicine cabinet. He grabbed a face mask and disinfectant spray, refusing to touch anything Germaldo had laid his grubby little hands on.

"Cover your mouth," Lars warned as he marched into the room, and immediately began to spray everything in sight. Soon the whole room smelled strongly of antiseptic, and his eyes were a little watery.

Ronaldo was coughing again, "God, you didn't have to use that much!"

"I have no idea how much stuff you've touched since you got sick, I ain't takin' chances!"

"And you complain when I insist you clean your messy room!"

"That's different. This is germs we're talking about here," Lars grumbled, "Not aesthetic."

Ronaldo was about to retort, but paused to hack up a lung or two, and flopped onto his mattress, burying his snotty, feverish face into his pillow with a groan. He hated getting sick, because it never happened often with his immune system, and when it did, he would get _really sick_ , and it was complete agony and annoyance. He would take Lars' occasional small colds over this mega-flu.

"You should probably go home," Ronaldo mumbled, glancing up from his pillow, seeing Lars staring at him with annoyance.

"And let this house be a pit of disease and misery? No thank you," he insisted, and told Ronaldo to stay laid down while he headed out of the room once again. He rifled through the medicine cabinet again, pulling out the cold medicines and checking their expiration dates. He cursed when he saw they were all expired, and snapped at Ronaldo 'not to move a fucking inch' while he headed out, hopping on his bike to his house, a seven minute pedal in the rain, and grabbed his own arsenal of medicinal aids, rushing back to Ronaldo's, raincoat soaked, but armed at the ready to handle the ick factor.

"Drink this stuff," Lars commanded to Ronaldo, as he handed him the tiny plastic cup filled with the dose of medication.

"What is it?", Ronaldo coughed.

"High potency cough syrup, it'll stop you from being a windbag and hacking your throat up all day," Lars informed, waiting for him to take it.

"This stuff tastes gross though..."

"Not as gross as you look. Now drink it."

"How do I know you won't poison me with this?"

"Because if I was going to poison you, it would be with unexpected means, now drink it."

"Guhhhh," Ronaldo whined as he downed the dosage, and grimaced in disgust at its taste, swallowing the cup of water Lars gave him to rinse it down.

"Do you have a headache or body aches?", Lars asked, grabbing a smaller bottle and uncapping it.

"Everything hurts," Ronaldo grumbled.

"Aight, take two ibuprofen then," he placed two small pills in Ronaldo's sweaty hand, "Need water?"

"Are you sure I should-" he paused to cough, "Take these after a whole dose of cold medicine?"

"You'll live," Lars shrugged, and handed him a cup of water regardless of what Ronaldo's lack of an answer.

Ronaldo groaned as he settled back on the bed, medicine and pills taken care of. He gave another sniffle, and instinctively reached for the tissue box.

Lars slapped a fresh box in his hand, grabbing rubber gloves to deal with the overflowing trash can, "I brought you like, three of these things, hoping to god you don't go through all of them in one day."

"No promises," Ronaldo mumbled, already blowing his nose on one, "Thanks for the help."

Lars didn't respond, already preparing the next dosages of medicine to be taken in a matter of hours, and did another round of disinfectant spray everywhere, even Ronaldo's pillow. He had muttered something about being right back, and told Ronaldo very sternly not to move or even try to get out of bed.

"Gee, thanks, _mom,_ " Ronaldo muttered, and Lars flipped him off casually as he strolled out of the room.

Ronaldo later heard some noises downstairs, but figured it could have just been the throbbing in his head too, he was too out of it to even guess things clearly. He did admit, the lack of stuffiness in the room was a little bit better than before, and if he could ignore his fever, he would be able to nap, shutting his heavy, watery eyes.

Just as he was about to drift off, he was awoken by a pillow in the face, and he began to cough and wheeze in shock, sitting up a little, Lars shoving a steaming cup of liquid in his hand.

"Tea?", he groaned, "But I'm already hot," he whined.

"This will clear up your chest and make your throat feel better," Lars rolled his eyes, "And I made it special, so you better take it."

"Why is your hair wet?"

"I had to make another stop at my place for ingredients.", Lars shrugged, ruffling his own hair a little to get the water droplets out.

"Ingredients for _what_?"

"Soup."

"Lars, I hate soup!", Ronaldo whined.

"Well it's not like you can eat much else when you're sick and worthless, now drink the damn tea," Lars frowned at him, crossing his arms.

Ronaldo obeyed, still being whiny about it. Lars was simultaneously the best and worst nurse ever at this point. He was taking care of him, but being a complete tool about it.

When Lars left, Ronaldo put the tea cup on his nightstand, and sank into his mattress again, praying he could be left to die in semi-peace.

He was tempted to breathe on Lars when the teen flicked his nose to wake him up several minutes later, holding a tray in his hand, keeping it balanced. All those years of working in that stupid donut shop and serving boxes came to use.

"Soup's on, snotbucket," Lars announced, and once Ronaldo was sat up, set the tray in his lap.

The sick teen groaned, "Do I have to eat thiiis?"

"Aww, do you want me to feed you?", Lars grinned with derision as he spoke in baby talk, poking his own cheeks to make a stupid grin.

"I will touch everything you own once I am no longer bedridden, I swear," Ronaldo growled murderously.

"Yeesh, lighten up," Lars muttered, and handed him a spoon, "Need a refill on tea?"

"No. No. No. No. No," Ronaldo repeated over and over, sinking back into his pillow again, only to feel Lars ease him back up into a sitting position. He groaned, and took a spoonful of soup, the steam initially soothing, but then he wheezed as he felt a strong burning sensation through his sinuses.

"What's in this?", Ronaldo heaved.

"Chicken soup with wasabi and mustard powder to give it a kick. I had to run back home _again_ to get the wasabi," he pointed to his soaked shirt.

"A kick in the metaphorical balls?", Ronaldo wheezed again, rubbing his nose, "I can breathe but it _hurts_ , goddddd."

"Oh good, it's working," Lars smirked, "That oughta help clear your sinuses out."

"Lars, I don't even think I can eat half of this, my nose will be burned clean off after three bites."

"Oh don't be such a baby," Lars huffed, ironically tucking the other's blankets back in.

"You're such a mom," Ronaldo snickered, coughing only a little.

"Shut it," Lars glared, and sprayed more disinfectant everywhere, "Eat the rest of your soup, and rest up."

"So what are you going to do then?"

"Um, obviously watch this season three collection," Lars smirked, pointing to the _The_ _X-Files_ DVD case, "You've still got the huge-ass TV downstairs. And the snacks."

"Without me? No fair," Ronaldo whined, having been wanting to see that with his friend.

"You can catch up later," he shrugged, and strolled out of the room, leaving Ronaldo to attempt to finish the nasal burner of a soup.

Ronaldo did have to admit, he was feeling better than before. Better enough to feel drowsy, and actually get to sleep even.

* * *

When he woke up hours later, it was dark out, and he decided to get out of bed. He was a little achy still, but not so much it was unbearable. Lars' aggressive nursing seemed to have worked, he wouldn't deny that fact.

"Lars are you still here?", he called out softly, heading down the stairs, wondering if Lars was still binge watching the show.

A cough preceded an affirmative 'yeah', and Ronaldo frowned, knowing something was up.

Lars was in front of the TV, keeping a blanket wrapped around himself as he was slumped on the couch arm, looking the tiniest bit pink in the face, and a little out of it.

"I don't feel so hot," Lars admitted, glancing up at Ronaldo.

"Well, what did you expect from going back and forth between our houses in the rain, and without your raincoat the last trip?", Ronaldo resisted the urge to smile smugly at him.

"I'm just glad I made enough soup for myself," Lars grumbled.

"Scoot over. Now that we're both sick, we can watch this together without much issue," Ronaldo rationalized, and nudged the other over, flopping on the couch.

"You should be in bed still," Lars mumbled.

"Well now, you should too," Ronaldo smiled, stealing half of the blanket from his friend while they sat together.

Later that evening, a very grumpy Peedee ended up having to be nurse for both of them as they were pathetic, exhausted wrecks on the couch.

Lars made a mental note that binge watching anything on a TV while you were ill was not anything close to a remedy at all.

At least each other's fever kept their friend rather comfortable.

* * *

 **Ok guys, so I've got some drabbles I'm going to write soon, but at this time if anyone has a prompt request, go ahead and leave a comment (and a review please, I love hearing what you guys think about my writing!). My only request is that they remain sfw at this time.**


	13. Show and Tell

**Show and Tell**

* * *

Lars was pretty sure he was going to be the coolest kid in fourth grade the morning he walked in with a snake resting along his shoulders. The first person who had caught sight of the reptile had gasped, "Woah!", which then caught the attention of other kids, and soon, the whole class, except for Ronnie, was whispering and taking notice of the animal.

"Is that real?", one girl whispered.

"It can't be!", another murmured.

"Oh, she's real," Lars grinned proudly, glad he was getting attention, and relaxed in his seat. He was going to play it cool until he was called up to present.

Ronnie leaned over from behind Lars and whispered, "Where's Sugar's cage?"

"It was too heavy," he whispered back, "She can just sit on my shoulder all day."

"What if she tries to escape?"

"She can't get very far," Lars snickered, tapping her snout gently with his finger.

Once the teacher had walked in, she took notice of the animal, looking more than a little surprised, "Er...Lars, is this yours?"

"Yes, m'am," he nodded, "Show and tell."

"Oh right..." she smiled nervously, obviously not a big fan of snakes, "Well, now that class has begun, would you like to er...tell us about your pet?"

He nodded eagerly, and got up, walking in front of the class, lifting Sugar off his shoulders, balancing her in both hands, "This is Sugar, my pet corn snake. I got her when I was six years old on my birthday, and picked her out myself!"

When Sugar opted to keep trying to slither forward, Lars would maneuver his hands to keep her relatively still, "She uh...likes to play in my hands a lot."

"Why's her name Sugar?", one child piped up.

"Because she's white and sweet," Lars shrugged, giving the short answer he usually did for that question. When a handful of kids laughed at that, his ears turned red, and he stuttered, "A-Also uh...she didn't come when I called her 'Killer'..." and the somewhat teasing laughs turned to amused giggles. OK, that was better.

Lars then bragged, "When I first got her, she was no bigger than a pencil. Now she's almost as long as the length of my arms!"

Ronnie giggled a little, knowing Lars was exaggerating a bit. Sugar was small when he adopted her, but not as small as Lars had suggested. But he did have to give his friend credit for having taken such good care of the animal, she was quite lively, and growing bigger than the man at the pet store said she would.

"What does she eat?", another student asked.

"Mice!", Lars grinned.

"Eww!", a few children yelped.

"Hey, snakes have to eat too!", Ronnie defended his godsnake.

The teacher laughed, "Well, you certainly have an interesting pet, Lars."

"Thank you," the boy smiled, holding Sugar close to his chest, giggling when she poked his nose with her snout.

A few kids were still staring at the animal in awe, and once Lars went back to his seat, one of them asked to pet Sugar, and Lars was more than happy to allow it. All at once, half the class was surrounding his desk, showering the snake in attention, and crowding out Ronnie, who was trying to get in on the action, or at least high five his best friend.

Once the kids were told to go back to their seats, the teacher then asked Lars to put Sugar back in her cage, and Lars gulped.

"U-Uh...I didn't bring it."

"...I see," the teacher frowned, looking more than a little concerned about what was going to be done about the snake, "Well, I don't feel too comfortable having a snake loose in the classroom..."

"She can sit on my shoulders! She'll behave!", he insisted, looking up with pleading eyes, not wanting to have her confiscated (if that even was a possibility).

"Alright," the teacher sighed after a pause, "So long as she is not a distraction."

Lars grinned, "She won't be, I promise!", and allowed his pet to snuggle on his shoulders. Ronnie took this opportunity to run a finger across the reptile's body, especially since he sat right behind her.

All during class, the snake kept rested on her caretaker's shoulders, looking around the room with curiosity, flicking her tongue more often. After having her fill of looking around the new environment, being her sweet affectionate self, decided to give the boy little kisses on his face. When her tiny little tongue kept flicking against his neck, Lars couldn't help but giggle, and gently pushed her snout away. When she kept trying to get his attention, making him giggle with her tickly tongue and snout, he had to whisper at her to stop.

The teacher gently warned Lars to not let the snake distract from his own studies, and he assured her it wasn't.

When the bell for recess rang, a group of students immediately hurried over to Lars on the playground, crowding out Ronnie once again, and all were oohing and ahing over Sugar, who remained happily oblivious to the attention she was getting, taking a nap on Lars' shoulder.

"Hey Lars! Can I hold her?"

"Me too!"

"I wanna have her play on my shoulders!"

Had this been anything else, Lars might have allowed it, but since it was Sugar that was getting handled, Lars was more than a little protective, not ever allowing anyone to handle her besides himself or on the rare occasion, Ronnie. He gulped, smiling awkwardly, "S-Sorry guys. I think she likes it on my shoulders better...Y-You can pet her though!", he assured.

That didn't satisfy many of the kids, and they all looked disappointed as they walked away, knowing Lars wasn't going to share the cool snake with them.

When Lars whined for them to come back, and nobody did, he sighed, looking at the snake on his shoulders. So much for making people like him today.

Ronnie gently nudged his arm, "Don't worry about it, Lars! You're still pretty cool to me!"

Lars groaned, "Not helping, Ronnie," and took his hand off Sugar, "I guess it wasn't gonna do much anyway. Now they just think I have a cool pet, not that _I'm_ cool."

Looking at the snake, then Lars, Ronnie wiggled his arms a little, "Well- who _cares_ about being cool anyway?"

"I do."

"Well, _I_ don't. And look where I'm at today," Ronnie beamed.

"Beach City Youth Chess Team isn't 'cool', Ronnie," Lars sighed, and plopped onto the blacktop, "If I'm not considered cool by the start of middle school, I'm as good as doomed."

"Don't you think you're overreacting a little?", Ronnie shrugged, sitting beside him, criss-crossing his legs, and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Ronnie, look at us. We're dead meat. We'll be number one targets for wedgies, swirlies, and whatever else they talk about happening."

Before the other could even respond, a larger fifth grader boy darted up behind Lars and snatched Sugar right off of his shoulders, laughing as he ran for the grassy part of the playground.

Lars was quick to react, shrieking, "HEY!", and leaped up, hurrying after the boy, screaming at him to give his snake back.

Ronnie stood in shock for a few seconds before quickly following after his friend. He certainly didn't expect one of the fifth graders to find interest in the snake, much less try and steal it right off of Lars' shoulders. He probably should have gotten a teacher, but then he didn't want to get Lars in more trouble over the fact there was a snake on the playground at all.

When he caught up to the chaos, Lars was desperately trying to reach for Sugar as the older boy held her near the end of her body, hanging her over Lars, just out of arm's reach. When Lars nearly got her, the tormentor passed the snake to his friend, who raised it up even higher, skipping away from Lars.

Lars screeched at them to leave Sugar alone, and to give her back. He ran as fast as he could when he saw his beloved pet violently writhing and bouncing in the youths' hands, not liking being held so high above the ground so loosely.

"Stoppit!", Lars screamed, "You're hurting her!"

When the kids refused to end their keep-away game, Lars was in near hysterics, and shoved at one of the kids, shouting at them to give him his snake back. In response, one of the children shoved Lars as hard as he could in the stomach, knocking the boy over. Lars' head knocked hard against the ground, and tears welled up in his eyes, absolutely terrified. Before he could resort to crying for his pet back, he heard an enraged yelp.

"Give Lars his snake back!", Ronnie roared at the older boys, and rammed hard against the one who was holding the snake. The bully yelped and dropped Sugar on the grass where she squirmed violently in place. When the bully lifted his foot as if he was going to crush her tiny little body, Ronnie yelled again, and tackled him, making the fall backwards onto his friend, and then Ronnie found himself facing off against two older boys.

As soon as Sugar hit the grass, Lars scrambled to grab her, and wrapped his hands around her body. However, the snake was incredibly irritated, terrified, and disoriented from all the mishandling and the shaking, and feeling hands wrap around her, had decided it was more than enough. Without a bit of hesitation, her head twisted in the direction of Lars' arm, and her strong jaws bit down below his wrist, hard.

Lars yelped in shock and pain, feeling the harsh pinch from her jaws clamping down on him, and the three other boys stopped fighting, looking over in shock to see the snake biting someone. Choking back a sob, Lars winced as he hoped Sugar would let go.

When the snake's jaws released, having decided the bite was more than enough to get her point across, Lars cried as he held the squirming animal, "Sugar, th-that hurt!"

In all his time he'd cared for her, she had _never_ bitten him like that. She'd always be one to give little 'love nibbles' but none of them left what was sure to be a pretty prominent bruise on Lars' arm.

When one of the bullies got up to hassle Lars, Ronnie immediately tackled him by the legs, and the three way fight was back in action.

Lars couldn't handle dealing with bullies again that day, especially with Sugar, and ran as fast as he could away from the fight with the worked up reptile still wriggling in his hands, knowing Ronnie could probably handle himself.

He ended up in the principal's office three minutes later with the other three boys, another student having reported the fight to a teacher.

Once the story had been made clear to the principal, Lars and Ronnie were both sent to the nurses' office together, so Lars could have his bite checked out, and Ronnie could get some help for the cut on his lip, knee, and his bruised cheek.

Lars took note of his friend's glasses, seeing one of the frames had popped out, and then saw Ronnie's face, his eyes steely with pride at having defended his friend.

"I-Is Sugar OK?", Ronnie asked softly as they both sat in the nurses' office.

The reptile had been put in an open shoe box or as Lars considered it 'snake jail', and seemed much calmer now as she rest in the box on her owner's lap. Lars sniffled as he looked at her, "...she's fine," he mumbled, still feeling a horrible twist in his gut at thinking what horrible things could have happened to her, and then to top it off, the bite. He was almost afraid to pick her up or touch her, scared that she hated him now, for letting that happen to her, and for bringing her to such a horrible place to begin with.

"I'm the worst pet owner ever," Lars spoke, sounding completely miserable, "If I'd just brought her cage, nobody would have bothered her."

"...aw...c'mon Lars...you know better than I do that she hates being stuck in that thing all day...and you take her out places all the time..."

"I didn't know this would happen, " Lars mumbled, and stared down at his beloved pet. Hesitantly, he reached his hand in the shoebox, hoping she took it as an apology.

In less than three seconds, the snake was back to her routine of crawling onto and up his arm, towards his shoulders. She nudged her head against his cheek in apology, tickling his chin with her tongue.

Lars cracked the tiniest smile, and gently pet along her back, glad she still liked him and was safe, and looked at Ronnie, "...Sorry you got beat up for me."

"Not as bad as those two got beat up by me, " Ronnie grinned slyly, motioning to the two fifth graders now bawling to the nurse. He was well aware he was a nerd, but there was no chance in heck he'd let himself get beat up for it. He knew well enough how to defend himself. Even if it meant he would get called into the principal's office for it every now and then.

"Oh man, Ronnie," Lars laughed softly, "Nobody will ever mess with you in middle school if you keep this up."

"Let's keep it that way," Ronnie smiled, putting his broken glasses on his face.

Lars laughed at the glasses, and then looked back down at Sugar.

Even if things turned out OK in the end, it would be years before he ever felt comfortable about taking her out in public again.

Especially when he knew he probably couldn't defend her, much less defend himself, in all senses of the word.


	14. Game Night

**Game Night**

* * *

"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?", Ronaldo casually asked as he plopped on the couch.

"Oh, nah, it was nothin'," Lars shrugged, "I forgot what I was even gonna tell you," he laughed softly as he grabbed the game controllers, tossing one to his friend.

"I understand. Those moments are frustrating," Ronaldo smiled a bit, and leaned over, "So which games, of your fine selection, would you like to play, my friend?"

Lars shifted his hand over the stack of games he'd set out, and lowered it to the middle of the stack, pulling out a fighting game, "This one suit ya?"

"Oh this will suit me fine," Ronaldo grinned, having played this game on several occasions, "Can you take off handicap?"

"Uh, of _course_ ," the other snickered, "I never play it with handicap to begin with. What do I look like to you, man?"

"Someone with way too many video games," Ronaldo laughed, glancing at his friend's impressive stack of games, "Can I pick my character first?"

"Sure," Lars shrugged, "So long as I can play the fox-huntress."

"Really? Her? She's not even the most scantily clad," Ronaldo teased softly.

The other snorted, "I like her move-set. And she's got red hair."

"You have a thing for red heads?", Lars' friend teased again, gently swatting his tuft of curly red hair.

"Who'd you pick?", Lars glanced at the screen, "The robo-dude? Oh come on, he's _so_ OP..."

"They nuked him pretty badly in the dlc upgrade," Ronaldo admitted, swapping color palettes to his liking on the character, "...pretty lucky you haven't upgraded this game."

"Oh yes I will," Lars grinned wickedly, daring to log the game off so he could use the game console's 'live' mode to access the downloadable content.

" _Noooo_ ," Ronaldo whined, "Come on, don't weaken me this soon. I'm used to his old skill levels."

"Fine, how about five rounds, and then we set it straight?", Lars glanced up at him, kicking his shoes off.

"That's fair," Ronaldo sighed.

Once the match started, both friends were already mashing the buttons furiously, their characters on the screen walloping each other in gory high-def detail. When Lars' character speared Ronaldo's in a death blow midway through the match, the losing player gave a small giggle.

"Remember when we played the arcade version of this game at Funland? When it was just 16 bit effects and joysticks?"

"Yeah," Lars laughed, "Weren't we like seven or something? I think Mr. Smiley tried to kick us off of the game because he thought it would be too bloody for us."

"That's right," Ronaldo giggled, "We both were too small to even see over the console, so we had to stand on step stools. Then when he kicked us off of it, we went to the movie theater and snuck in to see that slasher movie your sister was talking about."

"I can't believe she was into that stuff when she was younger. She still is," Lars laughed, "I mean, it's so weird, she's this really bubbly girly 20 somethin' and she loves nothin' more than a bucket-of-blood movie."

"It is pretty funny," Ronaldo laughed, "We couldn't handle thirty minutes of that movie. We both cried, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Our dads were laughing so hard at how freaked out we were, they didn't even ground us for sneakin' in!", Lars cackled, "God what jerks!"

"I know!", Ronaldo cackled with equal mirth, and fist pumped the air as he won the second match.

The third match ended up being a draw, and a sudden death round was issued.

Lars planted his foot directly in Ronaldo's face as he wildly mashed buttons, and Ronaldo shoved him over and he gave a yelp. The resulting chaos created yet another draw, and that in turn was found to be so hilarious, they both had to pause the game to break into hysterics , the likelihoods of that having happened very very slim.

"Oh god, if we get another draw, I'm gonna die," Lars laughed.

"I am already dead," Ronaldo wheezed, wiping away a tear from having laughed so hard.

In the end, Lars won that round. He celebrated his victory like any teenager would. By flipping the double birds, and cheering.

Ronaldo smacked him gently behind the head, and Lars giggled a bit.

The fourth round was surprisingly a little faster, Ronaldo winning quicker than normal, "Did your butter fingers come into play, dude?" he snickered to Lars.

Lars shrugged, giving a small smirk as he relaxed back on the couch, "Eh. Just bad luck that round."

"Well, here's the last round before you download the content that will nuke my character into the oblivion of horrible gaming," Ronaldo grinned, and readied himself to break some pixellated teeth.

Lars gave another soft smirk, and paused the game, "Gimme a sec to rest up my wrist, eh?"

"Good plan," Ronaldo smiled, and rolled his wrists a little until he heard a satisfying crack.

"...Remember when we were like five and-"

"Lars I have the worst memory of anything between the ages of 3 and 6, you know that," Ronaldo cut in.

"Right," Lars laughed, voice sounding a little strained, "Remember how we uh, found all those really cool pink flowers?"

"I remember having sneezing fits one spring, yes," Ronaldo shrugged, wondering if Lars was gonna un-pause the game any time soon, or if he was still resting his wrists.

"...remember how I wanted to put 'em in my hair and stuff?", Lars asked.

"...maybe?", Ronaldo was struggling to remember everything.

"Remember the really pretty pink lady?"

"I remember her yeah," Ronaldo shrugged. It'd been years since they'd seen any sign of her, but he certainly did have faint memories of that person in Beach City.

"So uh, maybe you remember she put 'em in a little flower crown for me?"

"Not really?"

"Oh...uh..." Lars began, starting to trip over his tongue.

"Hey it's OK, keep going with this," Ronaldo shrugged, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

"OK, so like...I wore the flowers and stuff when I got home, and uh...my dad got pretty mad," Lars admitted with a laugh. It wasn't a happy laugh though. It was more of a laugh in hope to distract from building anxiety.

"Why?"

"Well it's like, I guess he thought pink flowers in my hair was too girly, and he told me boys don't do that...and uh, for a while, I kind of thought he was right."

"Hey," Ronaldo cut in, "Nothing bad about flowers and pink. Boys can like flowers and pink."

"Well uh...the thing is...I've been doing a lot of thinking and feeling and...I don't think...being a boy is the right fit for me."

Ronaldo glanced over, seeing Lars was staring at the arm of the couch where they had placed their game controller.

"I mean, all my hobbies and stuff, they're like 'boy' things, right?...but...I just don't feel right calling _myself_ a boy...even if uh...my parents say I'm _supposed_ to be one...i-it just doesn't _feel_ right and I uh...um...", their voice trailed away, and they covered their mouth , looking a little nervous.

"...do you want me to use different pronouns for you?", Ronaldo asked calmly.

Lars looked up, "Uh...woah...you're not totally weirded out by this?"

Ronaldo rolled his eyes, " _Fuck_ no. I have a bunch of friends who are transgender, it's no big deal and it's most certainly not my business how they discovered their identities, or why they transitioned. Just so long as they're happy. Just so long as _you're_ happy, then I'm cool with it all."

"...that's...actually really fuckin' cool," Lars grinned, feeling a little more relieved, "Then uh...just like...between us until I feel like tellin' other people, can you use 'she'?"

"Of course," Ronaldo nudged his friend, "...do you want me to call you something other than Lars?"

"...Are you sure you're cool with that too? I mean, you've known me as Lars since we were in training pants-"

"I know you as your immortal soul projects," Ronaldo spoke like some sort of anime sage, which made his friend crack a small laugh, "Not just by your name. If I could get used to you calling me Mega-Nerd for a whole year, then I'll get used to not calling you Lars. So...any name you want me to use instead?"

"Hm...not sure," Lars admitted, "I'm thinking over stuff still, y'know? I'll let ya know if I have somethin' you can call me. You're kinda the first person I'm telling, so I kind of have a ways to go before I'm like officially 'out'."

"I understand," Ronaldo smiled, patting his friend's wrist, "So are we ready to do the final death round?"

"Yeah," Lars grinned, picking up her controller again, looking more than a little eager to fight to the death.

Once again, the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of buttons getting brutalized, the effects of the game, and an occasional curse word by one of the two teens on the couch.

Right before Ronaldo could deliver a potential death blow, Lars had planted her foot directly in his face again, grinning wickedly. Ronaldo shoved her over, slowly leaning back until he was laid back right on top of her, and she whined that he was a cheater and his ass was crushing her.

"You cheated first," Ronaldo grinned, and promptly won the match, "Quite a swan song for my character's original stats, I should say," and put his controller down, "Alright. DLC time."

Lars nodded, and logged off the game to access Live mode, and after some scrolling, she found the upgrade, and downloaded it. 'Tsk'-ing her tongue when she saw the loading bar citing it would take about an hour to load, she glanced at Ronaldo, "Wanna grab snacks while we wait for this shit to load?"

"Yes please," Ronaldo groaned, having been starving for the last half hour, and followed his friend into the kitchen.

Rooting through her cupboard, Lars found some various bags of chips and a tin of digestive biscuits from the specialty food store that was half empty. She tossed a bag of chips to Ronaldo, and then found a box of panko crumbs. Curious, she decided to look in the fridge, and saw pork cutlets, and grinned, "Oh hey fuck the chips, we can have tonkatsu."

At hearing of the dish, Ronaldo's mouth watered, "With cabbage and curry? Please tell me you have curry," he whined, remembering when his friend had cooked him a full meal of tonkatsu, and it was the most delicious thing he'd ever set his mouth on.

Lars snickered, "What you want another dinner out of this?"

"If you please."

Rolling her eyes, Lars looked for curry ingredients, finding most everything, and everything she couldn't find could be improvised.

"Curry I can make," she gave a thumbs up as she looked in the fridge, "And would you take leftover coleslaw over fresh shredded cabbage?"

"That's fine!", Ronaldo grinned, grabbing all the cooking pans he could find in an attempt to help assist his friend, and speed up the process of getting delicious food. He ended up grabbing more than enough pans, and a few unnecessary utensils, and sheepishly put them away when Lars expressed concern at his lack of cooking skills.

When all the burners were put to use, Lars busied her hands while tending to the cooking, keeping fairly quiet for several minutes, Ronaldo curiously glancing around the kitchen, and looking at his phone.

"So you goin' to Delmarvacon this summer?", Lars asked out of the blue.

"Of course," Ronaldo scoffed, "I modded my Koala Warrior cosplay so it doesn't violate anything like the whole stupid 'no fire' rule," Ronaldo huffed, "How else was I supposed to make the didgeridoo work?"

"Imagination," Lars snorted, "I remember seein' that-"

"You went last year?"

"Uh yeah? I was the Skull Kid with the mask and-"

"You were _that_ Skull Kid? Oh gosh, that was amazing! I didn't know that was you!"

"I never took the mask off," Lars admitted, "Took forever to paint that thing. I know I'll do it at least one of the days this year...and uh...maybe do what I did for Halloween-"

"The Purple Puma?", Ronaldo snickered, remembering her costume from last Halloween, "You should totally go as him!"

'Yeah, but I might have to dye purple armsocks or something," she muttered, "The bathtub was completely purple for three weeks when I tried to clean up."

"True, true," Ronaldo smiled, "Any other costume ideas?"

"Well uh, I was kinda wanting to do the fox-huntress from the game-"

"You'd be killer in that," Ronaldo grinned, "If you could nail Skull Kid, then you'll totally nail her."

"Thanks man," Lars smiled, stirring the curry mix in the pan, then tended to the frying pork cutlets, then suddenly spoke up, "I think I have a name idea. Nothing permanent, but just a thought-"

"Go on," Ronaldo looked up at his friend.

"OK, so the other night, I was talking to my grandma on the phone, the one who lives in Sage City," Lars glanced to him, "You met her on my birthday one year?"

"Your dad's mom? Yeah."

"Yeah, well anyway, she always has these stories about all her friends when she was growing up, and she was going on about one of her friends who croaked recently-"

"Sad."

Lars snickered, "Her friend, Lorelei, and how Lorelei was like, a total _bad-ass_. She would rip the hems off her dresses for Sunday school, and wear her brother's loafers and stuff, and then cut her hair short before the schoolhouse pictures were taken, so while all these other girls had braid and stuff, Lorelei had a mop top," she laughed.

"Who does that sound like?", Ronaldo teased, and motioned for his friend to continue the story.

"And then like, when Lorelei was in high school, some guy asked her to prom as a joke, and she WHOOPED his ass and sent him flying into a pond," Lars cackled.

"Go Lorelei," Ronaldo laughed.

"Yeah, totally," she grinned, "Anyway, uh, my gramma then said nobody fucked with Lorelei after that, until uh, the guy she married started drinking and I guess things got really bad."

Ronaldo's laughter subsided, "Oh...uh..."

Lars then continued, "She said that Lorelei stayed in the marriage because she had a kid to raise, and he was the one who owned the car, and stuff like that."

"Oh jeez."

"Then one day, things were bad and he hit her. So she grabbed a rifle, and chased him out of the house with it. He tried to take the car but she took the registration papers out, so he got arrested for speeding," Lars snorted, "She booted his ass straight outta the neighborhood, and she didn't care what anyone said about her not stayin' with him, or raising her kids alone. She wasn't trying to impress anyone at all, she was just trying to live her life how she wanted, and make sure her family was in good hands. In my gramma's words: Lorelei gave no fucks."

Ronaldo grinned, "...so...is that what you want your name to be? Lorelei?"

"I think it might be," she admitted, "I don't want to make anything permanent yet, just in case my gram calls me again with some story about another dead friend of her's who was a total bad-ass," she joked, "But just that whole idea of not caring about impressing anyone, and living how I wanna live without anyone fuckin' around with me...it all just fits, y'know? I mean, I'm fuckin' kicking myself for having been so obsessed about trying to look cool and impressing people all my life, and now at this point, I don't even care. I just wanna live how I wanna live, and if anyone wants to tell me otherwise, I'll kick their ass! And if that means I channel a dead shotgun wielding granny through my soul, then so be it!"

Ronaldo laughed, "That's the way! So do you want me to start calling you that to test it out?"

"So long as my dad's not around, yeah," Lorelei smiled, "I'm already kind of liking the sound of it," and turned off the oven once the timer beeped to allow all the cooking to cool before dishing it up to serve.

Ronaldo was quick to devour his delicious meal, finding it all had been worth the wait, and was so glad Lorelei was such a skilled cook.

"That update should be downloaded by now," the lanky teen glanced over to her friend, and smirked as she took one last bite, "Want to see how quickly I can kick your ass?"

"Want to see how quickly I can prove you wrong?"

"It's on, fucker," Lorelei grinned wildly at Ronaldo, and jubilantly leaped onto the couch once she grabbed her controller, crashing partially into the wall behind it with a yelp.

Ronaldo laughed so hard, he fell onto the floor, and Lorelei kicked him until he pulled her down, and they opted to test the upgraded game like that, flopped on the floor together, Ronaldo happy to let his friend lounge against his torso.

Friday evening game nights were their ritual, and something they wouldn't give up for most anything in the world.


	15. First Date

**First Date**

* * *

 _'So are you still picking me up at my office?'_ Ronaldo texted Lars while gathering paranormal hunting gear.

 _'Ya 7:00 right? And by office you mean lighthouse?'_

 _'Yeah, hope you dress nice jk :,D '_

 _'haha See you lata :,p '_

The day before, after over three weeks of acknowledging a mutual attraction, after several casual visits to each others' house to play videogames, Lars and Ronaldo had decided they could have an official date. Nothing remotely fancy, just dinner and going to a movie together

Ronaldo then pocketed his phone, and hauling a huge backpack onto his shoulder, headed towards the exit door of his family's restaurant, "Peedee, I'm going out for a while, tell Dad I'll be back at the house late tonight if he asks!"

Before Peedee could answer, their father poked his head in from the hallway, "Tell me what?"

"Oh, I'm just going to do some investigating, and then going on a date afterwards, so I'll be back home late," Ronaldo shrugged casually, tucking his high-definition video camera under his arm.

"Alright, just- wait, did you say date?", his father looked at him, visibly surprised.

"Yes, date."

"Date? As in, with an actual person, in Beach City?", Mr. Fryman looked like he was in disbelief at the notion of his son on a date.

"Er...yes?", Ronaldo sighed, "Don't wait up."

Before he could turn on his heel to leave, his father clapped him on the shoulder, grinning proudly, "I didn't think this would be happening that soon! I was giving it another few years at least! I guess I don't give you enough credit, what with having the Fryman family charm and all. I can't believe it! Your first date!"

Ronaldo flushed, "Gee. Thanks, Dad. I'll see you later-"

"What time is your date?"

"Er...seven?"

"Well I have to help you get ready right away then!", his father was getting more excitable by the second, ecstatic that his elder son was finally considered dateable.

"But Dad, I've got important investigative stuff to do, and this really isn't-"

"Oh come on!", his dad grinned, "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time! Granted, it was mostly because I expected Peedee to have his first date before you, but-"

"Dad!", Ronaldo huffed.

"Peedee, hold down the fort will ya? I need to get your brother some new duds!", Mr. Fryman gave a thumbs up to his younger son, who was holding back laughter at his older brother's frustration.

"Dad, you really don't have to do this," Ronaldo whined, "I had things to do today-"

"All your heebie jeebie stuff can wait, this is more important!", the man insisted, leading Ronaldo out to their car, "What's your date plan?"

"We were just going to get dinner and a movie-"

"Great! We won't need a tux, just a new shirt for you and a tie and some shoes-"

Ronaldo groaned as he reluctantly climbed into the back seat of the car, still not allowed in the front seat following what he would only call 'the incident' (how was he supposed to know the cigarette lighter was capable of lighting things on fire?), and sulked as his father drove to the nearest department store that was twenty minutes away. So much for investigating those caves in the woods.

Once they had arrived, Mr. Fryman was already prompting Ronaldo to try on several different types of dress shirts, even when Ronaldo insisted that it wasn't necessary, and that he liked his regular button ups.

Three shirts had been picked after nearly an hour of searching, and Ronaldo's father then insisted that final decisions could be made as soon as they found the right tie.

"But dad I already have a bow tie!", Ronaldo whined.

"Well it's not the right color!", Mr. Fryman insisted, "Besides, you want something new for a first date, it's an unspoken rule! Now let's see...red bow tie? Black bow tie?"

The teen huffed, "Don't you think this is a little much?"

"Nonsense! You gotta look good for your girl, son!", his father grinned.

"My gir- ohhh...", Ronaldo nearly choked, feeling his stomach knot up a little. It suddenly came to his attention that his father was not aware he was in fact, dating another man, or that he was not straight. And Ronaldo was not exactly sure how his father would react to him coming out, considering their extended family was, for the most part, pretty old fashioned, and Ronaldo didn't pay much attention to his fathers' personal political views. He knew his father was more than a little skeptical of his interest in the paranormal, but he didn't want to imagine if he thought even less of him for being attracted to men.

Mr. Fryman nudged the suddenly silent teen, "Go ahead, and try this on!"

"Dad, really, it's fine," Ronaldo mumbled, swallowing hard, and keeping his lips pursed shut.

"Don't you want to impress this girl?", he smiled.

"Well uh, the thing is, Dad..." Ronaldo began, already expecting to be yelled at.

"Yesss?"

"It's not really uh...it's not a girl," he finally managed to spit out, looking at the floor.

His father took it in for a few seconds, then frowned"... _Ronaldo_!"

The teen screwed his eyes shut, expecting to be yelled at.

"It better not be another plant!"

Ronaldo shot his head up, both relieved and offended, "Wha- No, Dad! It's a boy! I'm dating a boy!"

"OK, so red tie or black tie? We have to get you some shoes too!"

"Ugh!", Ronaldo groaned, glad his dad was accepting, but irritated at how overly invested he was in this, "Dad, I don't think it really matters, I mean, Lars doesn't-"

"Lars?", his dad looked shocked, then frowned, "You should have said that in the first place! I was gonna get you new clothes for _Lars_? I don't even expect that kid to change his underwear!"

"Oh my _God_ , Dad!", Ronaldo groaned, rubbing his forehead. Granted, his dad was probably right, Lars was not someone he would expect to dress up unless forced to, but this whole trip was more than a little exhausting.

"Well I guess we can forget the ties and everything. So long as you brush your hair, you'll look more distinguished than he will. Saves money I guess."

Ronaldo rolled his eyes, "Great," and trudged back to the car, grumbling how he didn't have enough time to go to the caves anymore.

The drive back took a little longer than expected, so Ronaldo texted Lars, ' _My dad kind of sidetracked me, can you pick me up at my place instead? :,T_ '

Lars texted back a few minutes later, ' _Sure. Gonna be a couple minutes late btw'_

 _'That's ok :,p'_

Figuring he may as well honor his father's insistence of new clothes, Ronaldo changed his shirt, and switched from cargo shorts to long khakis instead, and fixed his hair in the mirror. Granted, it stayed the same, wildly curly, but at least he tried, and therefore nobody could criticize him.

Around 7:10, the doorbell rang, and Ronaldo's father tried to pretend not to notice as he picked up a newspaper to read, peeking over the top just to see his eldest son answer the door.

And boy was Ronaldo surprised.

Lars was standing at the front door, looking redder than a strawberry as he looked at his changed shoes, having switched from sneakers to black loafers, an olive green cardigan, black undershirt, and an unripped pair of dark navy jeans. He'd put plain black plugs in his ears, which usually were without accessory.

Giving an awkward look, Lars glanced up at his date, then down at the ground, looking more than a little sheepish. It was only then that Ronaldo noticed he had a very small bouquet of red and yellow daisies in his hand, definitely store bought, but it was the thought that counted.

"Uh...hi," Lars spoke up after clearing his throat, and stretched his hand out a little to offer the daisies, looking quite embarrassed.

Ronaldo stared in surprise for another moment, then frowned, turning his head to call out to his father, "Well Dad, you were 100% _wrong!_ He dressed up good!"

Mr. Fryman was peering over his newspaper, just as shocked if not more so than his son, and flushed red with embarrassment, speaking softly, "Nobody's perfect son..." before hiding his face behind the paper, mumbling, " _How was I supposed to know?_ "

Lars looked more than a little confused at the exchange, and Ronaldo sighed, taking the flowers, "These are nice, thanks," and took a minute to put them in the kitchen with water, and headed back to the door, giving an exasperated goodbye to his father who was still peering over the newspaper at Lars.

Once they were in Lars' car, a well used station-wagon borrowed from the boy's father, Ronaldo glanced over as Lars began to drive away, still silent.

"So..."

"My sister made me dress up," Lars blurted, bright red, "I told her I was no priss, but she insisted I had to dress up for you, and-"

"Looks good on you," Ronaldo grinned, then teased, "Glad you didn't tear it off and change clothes before you saw me."

Lars flushed again, "Bah. Too much work."

"Sure, sure," his boyfriend grinned, "Whatever you say."

* * *

Their date went without much of a hitch afterward, the two opting to lowkey dinner and eat at a small cafe instead of a fullscale restaurant (besides the Crab Shack was hecka expensive for teenage boys, and Lars was allergic to lobsters), and then they headed to the movie theater, picking the latest action movie. Nobody made comment of why Lars was dressed up, or at least didn't care that the two looked to be on a date, and once the movie was over, they spent the drive back to Ronaldo's house criticizing the plot, all the inaccuracies, and horrible effects.

It took Ronaldo a second to realize Lars was walking with him up to the front door, and snickered, "I thought chivalry was dead."

Lars sputtered a little, and stuffed his hands in his cardigan pockets, "Well uh...goodnight. I guess this was kinda fun."

"Kinda fun?", Ronaldo laughed, and was about to lean down for a kiss when the door opened up behind him, and his father poked his head out expectantly, "Oh you're back!"

"Dad!" Ronaldo whined. He _told_ him not to wait up!

"Oh don't mind me, boys!", he gave a thumbs up, and stepped back inside, but didn't leave the entryway of the house.

Lars gave an awkward cough, and mumbled, "Well, see you later," and turned on his heel, slowly walking away to his car, leaving a disappointed Ronaldo to walk back inside, and flop on the sofa in dejection, looking out the window."

Mr. Fryman stood at the window, watching Lars' car leave before speaking up, "He's not a very good boyfriend."

Ronaldo sat up in shock, "What? _Why?_ "

"Well he didn't even kiss you goodnight!"

"You were watching us, it was making him nervous! Gaaaah!", Ronaldo groaned, slapping his own forehead, and quite frazzled, stomped up the stairs to his room, flopping on the bed. God, why did his dad have to ruin the moment?

Two minutes later, he heard a car screech behind the house, and sat up on his bed to look out the window, and saw Lars sprint onto the dumpster right below his window, and leap to grip onto the window sill, which prompted Ronaldo to open the window, "Lars?"

"Gimme a sec!", the boy grunted as he hoisted himself up onto the window sill, and without much warning, ducked through the window, giving Ronaldo a peck on the lips, and grinned like the jerk he was, "Ta-da!"

Ronaldo laughed, "Have you been working out? Or watching parkour videos again?"

"Bit of both," he grinned smugly, sitting on the sill, "I was going to get a goodnight kiss one way or the other!"

"By potentially breaking into my house," Ronaldo smirked, and leaned in to give him another kiss, "And you think I'm nuts."

"You're a special kind of nuts," Lars snickered, and then glanced down at the ground behind him, "And I think I'm not gonna be able to get down the way I came up..."

Ronaldo sighed, "Follow me."

He had concluded that his first 'real' date was a success, having gotten quite a unique kiss out of it, and a great laugh seeing his father's shock at trying to figure out how Lars had magically teleported from his car to the second story of their house.


	16. Crash

**Crash**

* * *

"Gosh," Peedee yawned, "Y'know, I didn't realize how tired I was until I started driving."

"What did you expect?", Ronaldo glanced up from his phone, "We were up late every day at the lake house, and we started driving back at eight in the morning?"

"Remind me never to take a vacation ever again," his little brother joked, and gave another yawn, scratching at the stubble on his chin as he kept driving, then groaned, "I can't believe we have to get right back to journalism when we get back into town. I can barely stay awake."

"Do you want me to take over driving?", Ronaldo looked up, seeing Peedee was blinking his eyes rapidly.

"Mm, nah, I think I can make it," Peedee shook his head, "Turn on the radio though. Loud music or something."

"Alright," Ronaldo cranked on the music, "Let me know if you do want to switch though, the last thing we want is an acci-"

Ronaldo's comment was cut off by a loud screech by a car up ahead that was swerving out of control, and the two were left to watch in shock as the vehicle crashed through the guardrail and tumbled into a ditch, flipping once.

Peedee had slammed on the brakes, pulling onto the side of the road a distance away from the crash, and the two craned their heads out the car window to look at the damage.

"Oh my God!", Ronaldo gasped, seeing the absolutely wrecked car and littered debris nearby.

"That car just flipped onto its side!", Peedee pointed, and hopped out of the car to get a closer look. By then, more cars had stopped, as well as an empty Greyhound bus, the driver having hurried over before Peedee had even gotten out of the car.

The bus driver, a middle aged woman, was looking into the drivers' window of the crashed car, and called up to the people who were already walking over to observe the accident, "Hey! Help me over here, he's still alive! Grab me a blanket or something! Someone call an ambulance!"

Peedee perked up, looking to Ronaldo, "We have a blanket in the car!"

Ronaldo was looking over the crash, and the gears were turning in his head, and he grinned, "We also have cameras! We have a story for when we get back into town! We can report on this!"

"Er...right!", Peedee mumbled awkwardly, a little taken aback by how his brother seemed more invested in their job than in helping with the crash. Regardless, he rooted through the backseat of their car, took the second camera, and the blanket, then hurried it over to the bus driver, who was using a crowbar from her vehicle to try and pry the door open.

Just as Peedee had handed the blanket to the woman, Ronaldo was tugging on his younger brother's shirt, "Get some pictures of the front, while I take notes and more pictures of the back, OK? We've gotta make this a good report if we want front page for once!"

More and more people were parking on the road to look at the accident, blocking up traffic. The bus driver shouted at someone to help her open the door, taking care of the broken glass and metal, and being more than cautious of the leaking gas and potential sparks.

Another driver shoved past Ronaldo (who snapped at him for nearly making him drop his notepad and camera), and helped the bus driver pry the door open, and it tore off its hinges entirely. They shoved it out of the way as they turned their attention to the pinned driver.

"What's going on?", one spectator asked.

"There was an accident!"

"Ambulance is on the way!", one announced.

"How many people are hurt?"

"There's a man in there!"

"Looks like he's pinned behind the wheel," Peedee observed, keeping a distance away to let the bus driver try to help the young man who was sandwiched between the driver's seat and the wheel, nose bleeding and face bruised.

"We're going to get you out, sweetie, hold on," the bus driver assured as she adjusted the seat back, and undid the seatbelt, and shouted, "Where's that ambulance already?"

"Traffic's blocking everything!", another driver yelped, "Hey! Everybody get out of here! Let the ambulance get through!"

In a few minutes, the vehicle managed to make it through traffic, and the ambulance drivers were getting to work on putting the injured man on a stretcher, and hauling him out of the ditch and into the back of the ambulance.

"Keep it steady!"

"How is he doing? Is he stable?"

"So far, so good!"

One of the ambulance drivers was talking to the bus driver, and as soon as they left, the woman seemed more than a little winded, staring into space.

"That ambulance guy told the truck driver she just saved that man's life...", Peedee smiled, relieved the victim was alright.

"Quick! Get a statement from her!" Ronaldo told his brother as he kept scribbling down all the details.

Peedee came back over less than a minute later, looking more than a little exhausted.

"What did she say?"

"Er...nothing," he admitted, looking over at the woman sat on the edge of the ditch, "She sat down on the side of the road and cried..."

"Oh well," Ronaldo sighed, "Wish I could have gotten a picture of the crash victim. Too many people were in the way."

"Eh, they'll release statements to the paper editors before they publish it," Peedee shrugged, then his smile faded, "It kind of bugs me how many people stopped to just _stare_ at everything, like they weren't even gonna help..."

"They were interested," Ronaldo countered as they hopped back in their car, deciding to drive the rest of the way, "That's what makes it good news material!"

All during the drive, Peedee was talking, much too wired to fall asleep now, but Ronaldo didn't pay much attention to what his brother was saying, envisioning their story making the front page. He and Peedee had been journalists for the Delmarva's county paper for several years after finishing school, and it had been forever since they hit a real big story like this.

They stopped on the way home at the 24 hour photo development shop, and came out with duplicates of everything, wanting their material to be in mint condition for publishing.

Mr. Fryman was at the door to greet his two sons, welcoming them back from their vacation to the lake house, and Ronaldo told him it would have to wait, that they had a story and a deadline to meet ASAP.

"What happened?"

"Car accident, right in front of us!", Ronaldo explained, "We got pictures, statements, everything!", and handed his father the second packet of photograph to look through.

The man leafed through them, "An ambulance too? Looks like someone got pretty hurt. Who were they?"

"Who knows?", Ronaldo shrugged, still grinning as he starting typing away like a madman on his computer, "We got _great_ photographs!"

Peedee folded his arms as he glanced to his father, "From what it looks like, whoever crashed will probably pull through..."

"Well, that's good," Mr. Fryman smiled, clapping the younger man on the shoulder, "Yeesh, you two should get some sleep when you're done. Just be glad _you_ didn't have an accident, eh?"

* * *

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Ronaldo had rushed out the door in his pajamas to grab the paper. Smack dab on the front of it was one of the photos they had snapped, in full color glory. He shot a fist into the air, cheering in triumph, "YES! Front page, front page! We made _front page_!", he shouted excitably, rushing inside with the paper, nearly knocking over Peedee, who was only half awake. Ronaldo danced excitably around him, and seated himself right on the kitchen counter, scanning through the words, mumbling 'serious accident...near fatal...bla bla bla...", and frowned, "Wait a minute! They edited my stuff!"

He slammed the paper on the kitchen table, and stomped over to the fridge, angrily rooting for something to stress-eat, "I wrote a great story and they printed only half of it! Half! They left out all the really good commentary!"

Mr. Fryman picked up the paper to read the article, "Do they say who the victim was?"

Ronaldo grumbled, "I don't know, and I don't even really care about that right now."

His father scanned the article, and his frown deepened, "...well you should. You know him."

"Wait, what?"

His father handed him the paper, so he could read the article in entirety.

 _-the victim, 25-year-old Lars Cheng, suffered several serious injuries yesterday when he lost control of his vehicle._

Ronaldo's heart dropped, "...Lars was the driver?"

 _According to witnesses, the car swerved off the road, lost control, and tumbled through the guard rail, rolling once, and causing massive damage to the driver's side of the vehicle and the front passenger seat. Cheng was pinned for several minutes between the steering wheel and his seat._

Ronaldo bit the inside of his mouth, feeling his whole body freeze. His longtime friend, who he hadn't seen in years, not since they were teenagers, who had moved out of Beach City, had been minutes away from death right in front of him, and he never even realized it.

 _Cheng was freed from his vehicle by a quick thinking bus driver, who is credited with saving the young man's life, along with another driver._

"Oh god," Ronaldo whimpered, rubbing his hands over his face, feeling overwhelmed, "I didn't think-...I didn't know it was Lars...I just thought it was some random person."

"We're all random people to somebody," his father sighed.

"He almost died yesterday, and all I did was take pictures and stand there!", Ronaldo exclaimed, slapping his forehead, "...I feel like a complete jerk!"

"Yeah, you kinda were."

"Peedee, come on," his father scolded, "Your brother's beating himself up enough as it is. And you probably didn't do much better."

"I offered a blanket...", he sheepishly corrected.

His father rolled his eyes, "Well, best wishes to Lars, and that he gets well, congrats on your boys' front page success, now who wants breakfast- Ronaldo where are you going?"

"Have to get dressed, have to go," the elder son spoke under his breath, hurrying out of the room.

* * *

Lars' mother, had clearly aged since the last time Ronaldo had seen her, her dark black hair now streaked with gray, and wrinkles under her eyes. She was talking on the phone in hushed Mandarin, looking worried as she spoke.

When Ronaldo approached her in the hall outside her son's room after she finished the call, she noticed him, visibly surprised, but managed to recognize him, "Ronaldo? It's been years!"

"H-Hi, Mrs. Cheng," Ronaldo greeted softly, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "I...uh...I was the one who wrote the article in the paper this morning-"

"You did?"

"Er yes...I saw the accident with my brother, and I thought I should come visit Lars...and well uh..."

The shorter Chinese woman hugged him tighter than he would have expected from someone like her, and she almost cried, "Someone he knew was there! Oh thank goodness!"

"I-Is he alright?", Ronaldo then decided to ask.

"He will be," she spoke, voice shaky, and opened the door to the room, letting him inside.

Lars was lying in bed, a bandage over his nose, nasal cannula taped in place, dark circles under his eyes, bruises on his face, brace on his neck, one of his arms in a cast, and a few machines hooked up, making the occasional beep. Ronaldo was careful not to bump the IV when he leaned over to see his friend.

"Lawrence? Lars, darling?", his mother spoke softly, wanting to get his attention. When he remained unconscious, she sighed, looking up to Ronaldo apologetically, "He's very sedated still. He broke his nose, his collarbone, three ribs, punctured his lung, there's a concussion, and one of the vertebra in his neck was chipped...bruises all over his legs...it could have been worse though," she continued to smile, still looking worried. She brushed her son's hair out of his face gently, and Ronaldo observed how long it had grown since he's last seen Lars. It looked long enough to tie back now.

"Thank you for letting me see him," Ronaldo smiled gratefully, "I'm glad to hear he'll be alright."

"It's a miracle he's alive," Mrs. Cheng murmured softly, and kissed her boy's forehead, "He's going to be in here for at least a week, then he'll be recovering at home, and coming here again twice a week for physical therapy. You're more than welcome to visit at any time," she smiled to Ronaldo.

"I'd like that," Ronaldo smiled, stomach knotting as he took one more glance at the man on the bed.

It was a miracle he was alive indeed.

* * *

About five days had passed, and Ronaldo finally had the courage to visit again. Mrs. Cheng had said the sedation had finally worn off, and that Lars was more or less alert and conscious, and very lucky to have no severe brain damage from the accident.

Ronaldo had decided against bringing flowers, knowing Lars was not a big fan of being fussed over, or at least he just got very embarrassed about it. If he felt the need to get something for his friend, he could always come back with it.

When he went in the room, he was surprised to see Lars' bed adjusted so he was near sitting, wide awake. He still looked pretty banged up, the bandage on his nose, and arm in a cast, but his bruises had faded, and his hair was not splayed all over the pillow, rather it was tied neatly at the nape of his neck, which had lost the brace.

"Lars?"

"Hi Ron," the patient smiled, looking pretty exhausted, "It's been a while, eh? Damn, you got taller."

"It really has," Ronaldo awkwardly rubbed the back of his own head as he walked over, and took a seat by the bed.

"My mom said you visited me a couple days ago. Sorry I wasn't awake."

"Don't worry about it...how do you feel?"

"A lot better," Lars folded his good arm over his bad one, "I actually feel pretty lucky."

"You don't look so lucky," Ronaldo sighed.

"I'm alive," Lars smiled, "I'm lucky I'm alive," and reached over onto his nightstand which was littered with 'get well' cards, a few potted flowers, and a balloon which came with a little note from Steven. He grabbed for a box, "Sadie came by earlier, and gave me these," he grinned, offering Ronaldo a donut, "I think there's a cinnamon one left."

"Thanks," Ronaldo smiled a little, and grabbed one, taking a bite, then softly spoke, "Peedee and I saw your car go off the road."

"I know. My mom told me. She even showed me the article," Lars responded, "Nice work, front page and all..."

"We were getting back from the lake house up in the mountains, Peedee was driving, we were both really exhausted, and we just saw this car swerve and go off the road, through the guardrail, and into the ditch..."

"So that's how it went...", Lars chuckled softly.

"What happened?"

"...I fell asleep at the wheel," Lars admitted, staring ahead, looking a little embarrassed.

"Really?", Ronaldo stared in shock.

"Mhm," Lars nodded, face flushed, "God, it was so stupid. I was on my way back from culinary school, the term was over, and I was gonna go visit my parents. I didn't get much sleep from working so much at school the last week or so, and I got really tired with the sun getting in my face and everything. I was thinking about pulling over and just waiting a few minutes, but then I guess I was already starting to zone out. When I touched the road shoulder, I saw the guardrail, and guess I hit the gas instead of the brake."

"Oh," Ronaldo mumbled.

"I can't remember what happened after that," Lars admitted, "But god...I just feel like an idiot. I mean, I coulda killed somebody besides myself with that stunt..."

"...right," Ronaldo admitted, already starting to imagine what would have happened if it had been himself or Peedee falling asleep at the wheel like that.

"Well, I guess that'll teach me to appreciate coffee more," Lars teased, trying to lighten the mood, and sat up a little more. Before Ronaldo could protest, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, pajama bottoms covering what was probably horribly bruised legs, "I need to get some blood pumping, I've been laying here all day. Gimme a hand?"

"Uhh, are you sure you-"

"It's fine," Lars insisted, and taking the rack of his IV to use as a cane, he stood up to full height with a grunt, "Ahhh that's it," he sighed, and held a hand out, "Help me out here?"

"Alright alright," Ronaldo sighed, and carefully placed an arm around his friend as they very slowly walked out of the room, and down the hall to exercise Lars' legs.

"You've changed," Lars observed, glancing up at his old friend, "You don't look half as much of a nerd as you were years ago."

"Gee thanks," Ronaldo snorted, "Well, you've changed too...you lost the mohawk, and you have tattoos I see?"

"You bet your ass I do," Lars grinned, "Some in places you'll never find."

"Wanna bet?", he teased.

Lars nudged his friend's side with his elbow, snickering, "So what have you been up to besides hard hitting journalism?"

"Not much. Staying in Beach City, since I don't really see much of a future for me anywhere else," Ronaldo admitted, "Maybe in a handful of years I can get more recognition so I have a purpose to travel, but...for now...nope."

The patient smiled, "Hey, y'know, I got a pretty nice job offer at a restaurant in Charm City. Not too far of a drive from here, so if I took up that job, chances are I'd be back in Beach City."

"Wow," Ronaldo grinned, "Seriously? That's great! Then we'll be able to see each other more!"

"Yeah," Lars smiled back.

"I mean, you could have come back to Beach City and I never would have noticed! This accident must have been the work of fate!"

"No, no," Lars shook his head, "It's the work of me being an idiot."

Ronaldo sighed, "Well, I'm just glad we got to see each other again," and helped Lars back to his room when they finished the walk. When Lars climbed back into his bed, he asked, "So when do you think you're getting out of the hospital?"

"Probably tomorrow, if things go well," Lars smiled, "I'll be staying with my mom until I get through physical therapy and everything. And then I have to find apartments in the area so I can actually take that job."

"Hey, y'know, whenever you feel better enough, and you're settled in at home, we should go grab coffee or something maybe? Catch up?"

"That would be great," Lars grinned, then winced.

"You OK?"

"Yeah, my nose is broken," Lars gave a small laugh, " _Hurts when I smile too much._ "


	17. Birthdays

**Birthdays**

* * *

"No! No! Absolutely not, you stay out of here!", Lars had screeched as he heard footsteps come into the kitchen while he re-tied his apron.

Ronaldo pouted, "What, I was just coming in to see how it was going," and peered over at the light pink mixture in the bowl, "What flavor is that anyway?", and tried to stick a finger in, but was quickly swatted by the metal whisk the other was holding.

"Hands off," Lars scolded, "I told you I don't want you getting in my way. You'll get to eat this later."

"Well I'm bored!" Ronaldo whined, watching his boyfriend continue to work away on various dishes and mixes, adding spices where he saw fit, and tasting it occasionally.

"Well, uh, go find something to entertain yourself!", Lars huffed, "Didn't you plan anything with Sadie or Steven?"

The excitable man pouted, "No. Sadie's at the dentist's until this evening, and Steven is with the Crystal Gems," then laid his face on Lars' shoulder, bellowing dramatically, "I'm all alone on my birthday...poor little meeee..."

The cook groaned, and grabbing a small little spoon from a drawer, scooped it into the bowl of pink icing, and stuck it in Ronaldo's mouth, "There. Satisfied?"

Ronaldo nodded as he tasted what was jammed into his mouth, and grinned, "Raspberry? I love raspberry!", then hugged Lars tightly around the middle, nuzzling his face against his neck, "You're just gonna spoil me today, huh?"

"If by spoil you mean make you dinner and a cake, then sure," he snorted, squirming a bit with how ticklish he was, "Shoo."

"But I'm gonna be bored for the next three hours...", Ronaldo pouted, "And I don't think I can wait that long for your cooking..."

Lars sighed, "Alright, wait here a sec," and put the bowl of icing on the counter, checking the sizzling pan of frying meat and vegetables quickly, then stood on his tiptoes, pulling a gift bag off of the top of the fridge, and handed it over to Ronaldo, "Here, you can have your present from me early."

Ronaldo curiously reached his hand in, and gave a look of sheer joy as he saw the shiny plastic cover of that one video game he'd been dying in wait for, "Octopus Army Deluxe?", he grinned, "I thought this game wasn't even out in North America yet!"

"It's not," Lars grinned," and handed him another bag, a Japanese-English dictionary inside, "Have fun!"

"This is both so mean, but so nice!", Ronaldo cheered, hugging Lars tightly again, even as the other squirmed.

Lars snickered softly, glad Ronaldo liked his present. He hadn't been able to afford much that year, and seeing the deal on the game online was within his spending budget for gifts, he took the chance. He honestly was wondering if he should have waited for Christmas to gift him something, which was a handful of months away, but Ronaldo seemed happy, so he'd be happy too.

For the next hour, Ronaldo was doing his best to set the game up, cheering triumphantly when he was able to edit language settings on the game, so he didn't have to deal with translating everything, and could just handle broken English. Every so often, he'd call to the kitchen, thanking Lars for the game, and Lars would accept the thanks, and get right back into focusing on cooking.

When Sadie and Steven had arrived, they both joined Ronaldo in playing until Lars yanked them both into the kitchen, having them help him set up the food, as well as decorating the cake he had made, so everything would be ready by the time any other potential guests arrived.

The attendance was fairly small, with Peedee coming by after finishing work, Kiki and Jenny Pizza both coming by with a joint present (a gift card to their shop), Sour Cream with glow sticks, and Buck Dewey (Lars had to tell himself not to pay notice, that this was Ronaldo's party, not his).

Halfway during the party, after everyone had dined on the food that had been prepared (it was all very delicious), Steven killed the lights, and the opening riff of The Beatles' "Happy Birthday" played over the speakers as Lars brought in the cake, chocolate with pink raspberry icing decorated by the berries itself on top, illuminated by candles. While Ronaldo cackled over the song choice, Lars set the cake on the table in front of his boyfriend, cuing a very off-key rendition of the traditional birthday song sung by everyone attending, almost ending early with how everyone was cracking up.

Ronaldo, trying to play it cool, licked his fingers and extinguished one of the candles by pinching it, then decided to blow out the rest. Once the lights were turned back on, Lars cut slices of cake, and Ronaldo decided it was totally worth the wait, because it was one of the most delicious birthday cakes he'd ever had.

As the evening went late, the party soon died down, and Ronaldo thanked everyone who attended, giving a small sigh of relief and stretching himself out as the house was empty, minus the cook of the evening, who was cleaning all the dishes and putting away leftovers, dead silent.

Ronaldo crept up behind Lars, hugging him from behind, "You were pretty quiet this evening," he observed, leaning his chin on the other's shoulder.

"It was your party, I didn't wanna distract from it much," Lars reasoned, reaching for a dish towel to wipe his hands off on, "Have a good birthday?"

"It was pretty nice," Ronaldo smiled, "That was probably the nicest dinner and cake I've had in a long time."

"Well good," Lars leaned back against him, "Because I'm bushed."

"Aww, you are?", Ronaldo laughed, "So no special _extra_ surprise?"

"Didn't have anything planned, but if we fool around or something after a couple rounds of Octopus Army, I guess that can count as a surprise," Lars rolled his eyes, turning around so he was facing the other, and resting against his chest.

"Well I think I'd like that just fine," Ronaldo smiled, lifting him up, carrying him out of the kitchen, even as Lars squawked in surprise. He leaped onto the couch with a bounce, and insisted he keep Lars as his lap warmer during the evening. Not that Lars even really protested that.

They only got through one round of the game before they got distracted with cuddles and kisses and then some, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Lars had joked that Ronaldo would have to somehow out-do him when his own birthday came around four months later.

And Ronaldo took that as a challenge.

* * *

Lars' birthday was on a weekend, which thankfully meant he had no shift at work, and he had intended to gift himself the ability to sleep in until noon that day.

But just as midnight struck, right as he was about to fall asleep, he was awoken by something hitting his second story window, and he jumped out of bed to see what had happened.

Another tennis ball bounced against the window, and Lars frowned, opening his window and sticking his head out. He squinted his eyes to see who was out in the dark, and realizing he had no contacts in, grabbed his pair of glasses that he never wore in public.

"Nice glasses," Ronaldo cheered from down below, and Lars glared.

"It's the middle of the night, man!"

"Actually," Ronaldo began, turning on a megaphone, and speaking into it, "As of now, it is 12:00 AM on the day of November 18th, and as of this time, you have successfully endured another rotation around the sun. Congratulations on this remarkable achievement," and he pulled a party popper out of his pocket, and pulled the string, "And as by the laws of tradition, this must be celebrated!"

"Ronaldo, it's midnight," Lars groaned, trying not to chuckle, "I gotta sleep."

"I figured," Ronaldo smiled, "That's why I've brought a sleeping bag. I'm on your porch."

"Ron, jeez!", Lars slapped his forehead, "Can't you just come back when I'm awake?"

"And miss out on celebrating your birthday to the max? No thank you!", Ronaldo smiled, "I even made your pet snake a party hat."

"Oh my god," Lars groaned, both aggravated and amused, "OK, I'm going back to bed."

"See you at dawn!"

"Probably not~", Lars singsonged, closing the window, and cackled as he crawled back into bed, finding it all absolutely ridiculous. As he was about to doze off, Ronaldo texted him with a picture of himself on the front porch in a sleeping bag, the only caption being a winking smiley face.

Lars in turn sent a picture of himself flipping off the camera with a smiley face in return, and went to sleep.

Around eight in the morning, he woke, glaring at the digital alarm clock, and as he reached his hand to examine it further, he felt fur run across his fingers, and looked over to see his pet cat, Ham, spooned up against him on top of his comforter in a purring ball of black fur.

He scratched his ears affectionately but looking quite confused, "Hammy? Who let you in my room?", he chirped softly, remembering he had closed his bedroom door.

And Lars then noticed the person standing in the corner of his room, and shrieked, "RON!"

"You're awake!", Ronaldo grinned, then blew on a noisemaker, "Let your birthday festivities begin!"

"God!", Lars gasped, "Don't scare me like that!", and grabbed his contact case, jamming the lenses in his eyes, and scooped up Ham, holding the furry bundle in his arms, "It's still really early," he grumbled, "And I was planning to sleep in until noon."

"Oh where's the enjoyment in that?", Ronaldo rolled his eyes.

"I dunno, I like sleep," Lars shrugged, cuddling his kitty.

Ronaldo pointed at the cat, "He hissed at me by the way."

"He doesn't like strangers," Lars smiled smugly, "I've trained him well."

"Wow, you're mean," Ronaldo huffed, and sighed, "So are we going to celebrate in your pajamas, or are we going to get this show on the road?"

"Gimme a sec," Lars yawned, and set his cat on the bed, stretching out his spine, and got out of bed, "Need to shower and stuff first, just go uh...do whatever it was you were doing before I even woke up, aight?"

"Sounds fair," Ronaldo sighed, and watched as Lars gathered his clothes for the day, and headed out of his room to go shower. When he was sure Lars was showering, he decided it was time to move to phase 2.

When Lars was finished showering, he saw no sign of Ronaldo, but a note was left on the bed.

 _Drive to Funland Arcade, I'll meet you there- Ronnie_

Lars wrinkled his nose. Really? That place? Oh well, he may as well humor Ronaldo, and not leave the poor guy standing there for three hours.

Grabbing his keys, he instinctively called out a goodbye to his parents, but remembered neither of them were home for his birthday. They never were. His birthday always seemed to coincide with their business trips.

Sighing, he climbed into the driver's seat of his car, and started off down the road.

Just as he made it down the street, a figure popped out from the back seat suddenly, and Lars screamed.

"Ronaldo, what the hell?", he screeched.

"Surprise!", Ronaldo cheered as he leaned over from the back seat, holding up a paper plate with a slice of yellow cake on it, and pushed a forkful of it against Lars' lips.

Lars groaned, "God," and without thinking, took the bite of cake. It was clearly homemade, and honestly, pretty shoddy, at least in comparison to what he himself could make, but he knew Ronaldo wasn't much of a cook.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Lars told him, still driving towards the arcade, "I thought we were meeting there!"

"Change of plans! We're going there together!" Ronaldo chirped as he fed Lars another forkful of cake.

Lars scolded him after a few bites, not wanting to choke, so Ronaldo wrapped the cake to save for when they parked. The arcade was still closed, being early morning, so Lars wasn't quite sure why Ronaldo wanted to go there.

That was until he saw Sadie wheeling something out from behind the arcade.

"Oh my god," he wheezed as he saw it was a giant cardboard cake, painted pink. Once again, it was clearly handmade, and pretty silly looking, but at least he could tell what it was.

"Is that a-", Lars began, getting out of the car with Ronaldo, and going over to Sadie, who was grinning.

"You always wanted a stripper cake, right?", Sadie laughed.

"What? Are you the stripper?", Lars laughed, and took another step forward.

Before he could get any closer to the cake, the top popped off, and there stood Steven with his shirt off (still wearing pants, thank goodness), 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' written on his chest, and holding sparklers as he cheered, "SURPRISE!"

Lars immediately broke into hysterical laughter, stepping backwards, falling back and landing on his ass, convulsing with laughter as he sat on the boardwalk, "O-OH MY GOD," he choked, breaking into more laughter.

As Ronaldo cheered, wishing him another happy birthday, Lars did not stop laughing, even as he tried to get up. He walked over to the arcade, just as Mr. Smiley was lifting the metal door to it, and went inside, leaning against one of the games as he continued to die of laughter.

Mr. Smiley watched him, then looked at the other three and the cardboard cake, then Lars again, "Is he alright there?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Sadie smiled, ruffling Steven's hair.

"He's great," Ronaldo nodded, and they all watched Lars continue to have a complete laughing fit. He knew this idea would be good.

Lars soon stumbled out of the arcade, still in hysterics as he went over to his car, climbing in and closing the door, tears rolling down his cheeks from how hard he was laughing.

"I think we killed him," Ronaldo snickered.

"It was my charm, wasn't it?", Steven smiled, patting his own chest.

Lars eventually managed to get out of his car, his hysterical laughter having calmed down into giggles as he wiped away tears. He walked over to his friends.

"Sooo, are you OK now?", Steven smiled.

Lars nearly broke into laughter again, giggling, "Steven put your shirt on."

While the boy pulled his shirt back on over his head, Ronaldo lifted Lars up, swaying him to and fro, "So did you like that surprise?"

"Oh my god," Lars snorted, planting his face against Ronaldo's chest, "You are going to pay for my funeral if I die from this. I think I lost five pounds from laughing so hard."

"I didn't expect that much of a reaction," Ronaldo admitted.

"I didn't expect any of this," Lars snickered, and wiped his eyes again, "OK, so any more surprises?"

"Oh we haven't even gotten started," Ronaldo grinned.

And all throughout the day, Ronaldo would navigate Lars to various places around Beach City, one surprise after another. Some surprises were small, like a card, or a tiny present from one of his friends, others were bigger, like an emergency dance party at the Car Wash, or a surprise rave at the warehouse hosted by Sour Cream (Lars nearly died of excitement), or various dumb activities that Lars would admit to liking, such as attending the Beach City Underground Wrestling match slated for that evening, pumpkin chucking at the nearest pumpkin patch, harassing turkeys at a turkey farm so near Thanksgiving by gobbling at them, burning balls of garbage, setting off illegal fireworks by the beach, and eating bagel sandwiches for dinner, courtesy of Steven.

At the end of the day, once everyone else was gone, Lars and Ronaldo had retreated to the lighthouse to fool around and cuddle. Lars was pretty worn out after a nice 'birthday romp', but that made it even better to admit this was a great day.

When the clock struck midnight, while they were snuggled together on the couch, a few pieces of clothing still missing, Ronaldo spoke up, "I'm sorry."

"What for?", Lars glanced up.

Ronaldo scratched his cheek awkwardly as he admitted, "I wasn't really able to afford much for your birthday, so a lot of it had to sort of be improvised and homemade, and I still want to do something nice for you for Christmas, so I'm saving most of my money for that. And I know my cooking and crafting skills are still pretty uh...bad, so I wasn't able to cook you anything that great, and I'm pretty sure my cake for you tasted like sawdust, but I-"

"Ronnie. Dude," Lars snorted, "This was awesome. This was literally the nicest shit anyone's _ever_ done for me on my birthday. I don't care how much money went into it, you and whoever else helped you here did a great job," he grinned, "I had fun today."

Ronaldo blushed, "Well...I'm glad," he smiled, kissing his cheek, "Happy belated birthday. It's midnight again."

"Thanks," Lars laughed, snuggling against him, hugging him as tightly as he could. What Ronaldo lacked in money or skill, he'd made up for in creativity and care. And the fact he had put so much of it into something Lars' own family hardly acknowledged anymore made him feel special.

"...But yeah, your cake tasted like sawdust. No offense."

"None taken."


	18. Robbery

**Robbery**

 **Content warning: Mentions of stabbing and injury**

* * *

"You sure you can close the store on your own?", Sadie smiled to Lars as she grabbed her coat. Had it been any other day, she would stay up until closing, but she had a doctor's appointment.

"Yeah yeah," he waved her off as he leafed through his magazine at the counter, slacking off like he normally did on these lazy afternoons.

"Alright," she smiled, "Remember to lock up the back once everything else is taken care of."

"I know," he sing-songed, still not paying attention.

"And to take inventory."

"Got it."

"And to-"

"Sadie, I got it. Don't you worry your _pretty little head_ ," he sneered a little, tone still playful.

She rolled her eyes, "Just making sure you know what to do, especially since _I'm_ usually the one doing all of this."

He stuck his tongue out at her, and grumbled at her to go to her appointment already, and she waved as she headed out. When it was about five o clock, and no customers seemed to be arriving, Lars decided it was time to call it a day, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and just to humor Sadie, decided to go through the checklist she'd given him. Finding most of the tasks unnecessary or boring, he skipped to the part about putting away the unsold donuts into the giant fridge, but complained to himself when it noted sorting them by type. _Boring._

Lars was busy working to take out donuts from the trays on the shelf, his back turned from the door when he heard the all too familiar chime, and rolled his eyes, wondering if people were too dumb to read signs anymore.

Not even turning to face the customer, Lars answered with sublime teenage snark, "We're closed, so-"

A sleeved arm wrapped around his neck, and a low voice growled against his ear, "Shut up, and get down on the ground."

Lars felt a shiver run up his spine, and struggled a bit, "W-what the-"

"I said DOWN," the intruder spoke threateningly, giving Lars a second to drop to the ground.

Instead of doing as the man instructed, Lars whirled around to face him, in time to see his hands fumbling to open the till, and both out of fear and indignation, shouted, "Hey, stop!", he yelped, and took a step forward.

The man then grabbed him again, a glint of something sharp and metal appearing in his other hand.

 _A knife...!_

Lars, never having dealt with a robbery at any point in his life, had no idea what to do. He tried to scream for help, but all that came out was a garbled shriek of terror.

"Shut up!", the burglar hissed, pinning Lars against the racks on the walls.

When Lars failed to silence himself, the intruder decided to do it for him.

Lars' whole body froze as the blade was suddenly plunged harshly into his abdomen with a sharp twist, and then roughly pulled out with a warm gush of blood following after it.

His knees locking for a few seconds, Lars stared down at the growing red stain above his stomach, and gave a choked gasp of terror and disbelief, then crumpled to the floor, hands gripping his wound in shock as the burglar got away with the contents of the cash register.

While Lars lay on the ground behind the counter, curled in pain, he was only thinking two things, 1. He'd just been _stabbed_ , and was probably going to die, and 2. Sadie was going to be so mad that the store was robbed under his supervision and that she was probably never going to let him handle things on his own again if this didn't kill him first.

Ronaldo had been walking towards his family's shop when he saw who he could only assume was a customer rush out of the store and high tail it down the boardwalk. _Must have really had a thing about donuts..._

And judging how the door was unlocked, Sadie was probably still there, closing up the store. Ronaldo was pretty well aware that Lars seldom stayed for closing, at least with what Sadie had always gossiped to him about.

He decided to walk in, and hope to chat it up with her, but saw no sign of an employee at the counter, "Saaaadie?", he called out, "You here?"

The excitable teen was more than a little concerned when he heard a low groan, and wondered if someone else was there.

"Sadie?"

"...h-help," a hushed voice mumbled, and Ronaldo felt his blood freeze momentarily.

"Is everything alri-", his words died in his throat as he wandered over, and saw Lars crumpled on the floor, clutching at a dark red wound right above his stomach.

"O-Oh god," Ronaldo gasped, "Are you alright?"

"G-guy just emptied out the register," Lars whimpered, not even looking at who had found him, "It hurts," he whimpered, wincing as he struggled to move.

"D-don't move!", Ronaldo commanded, mind in panic mode as he tried to think of what to do, "W-we have to get you help! We'll call an ambulance! Is Sadie here?"

"No, she...she had a doctor's appointment," the employee mumbled.

"OK that's good, she's not in harm then," Ronaldo nodded so aggressively, his glasses nearly came off, and he knelt to the ground over Lars to see how to handle the damage, "I'm going to call an ambulance, so hang on, alright? Alright Lars?", Ronaldo asked, trying to keep the other talking and awake.

"O-Okay," Lars answered, hands shaking a little as he continued to grip onto his wound. He lifted one of his palms, wincing as he saw it was absolutely covered with blood.

Ronaldo pulled his button-up off, leaving him in his t-shirt and shorts, and wadded up the cloth, having Lars remove his hands as he pressed it to the wound. He'd read enough survival guides to know that much. Still using one hand to stop the bleeding, Ronaldo used his other hand to access his cell phone, calling 911, telling them there was an emergency, giving them the address, and heeding the operator's instructions to keep the wound covered, and to make sure Lars was keeping awake. Ronaldo then called the police, who granted Ronaldo's request that he get Lars taken to the hospital and possibly leave the store alone. When they denied that request, he then suggested he have his brother stay there to give a statement to them in his place, and they accepted that, but then insisted they would need a full statement from Lars if _he was not deceased._

Lars mumbled, "Give me my phone.."

"Just try to calm yourself for right now, alright?", Ronaldo sighed, "The calmer you stay, the less bleeding."

"I wanna call my mom," Lars whimpered, "I have to let the dog in before she gets back from work and-"

"As soon as we get you to the hospital, I'll let Daisy in, alright? Your dog is named Daisy, right? She was a puppy when I last saw her."

"Yeah," he mumbled, and whined again, "I wanna tell my mom I'm sorry I slammed the door this morning and accident'ly broke her tea set and-"

"We'll call her as soon as you're safe, alright?", Ronaldo sighed. The blood wasn't soaking right through the cloth just yet, which meant they had time. Lars would just need to stay awake.

Lars shuddered again like he was about to cry, eyes filling up with tears, "I wanna call my grandpa-"

"Lars, come on don't cry," Ronaldo groaned, still keeping a hand pressed on the wound, "You're gonna be fine!"

"His birthday is nex' week, he's gonna be 89, and-"

"We'll wish him happy birthday from the hospital phone, alright?", Ronaldo sighed, "You're not gonna die, I just need you to stay awake alright?"

Lars gave a small nod, "I wanted to fly over to China to see him, but I don't have any more sick days, and he lives in a really small place so I'd have nowhere to stay..."

"When was the last time you visited him?", Ronaldo asked, deciding conversation was an ideal way of keeping his friend awake.

"Two years ago...I call him sometimes though," he mumbled, "And I wanna send him a laptop so he can learn how to video chat with me..."

"You'll have to send a webcam too, most laptop cameras are bad," Ronaldo admitted, and leaned over to the drink cooler behind the counter, reaching in, "Do you want some water?"

"Yeah," Lars answered, throat dry, and took the bottle in his hand that wasn't completely bloody, and took a swallow of water. He was still shaking, but he was starting to manage to calm down with the conversation.

"Is your grandfather ever going to visit Beach City?"

"No...he's retired, and he doesn't have much money, and he can't walk very well so he wouldn't do so great getting to the airport and-", Lars winced, giving a soft groan as he felt a stinging sensation in his gut.

"You're fine," Ronaldo assured, "Just keep calm alright? What was that about your grandfather getting to the airport?"

Lars picked up from where he left off, "He forgets where a lot of things are, so he might get lost on the wrong flight and everything, and he can't speak English very well, and I don't think he'd like Beach City very much."

"Oh, that's too bad," Ronaldo sighed, "I remember when he sent you those clothes for your birthday when we were kids."

Lars gave a snort, "You laughed at them."

"Well I was seven, and an idiot," he shrugged, "Does he send you anything much anymore?"

"He sent me a ceramic horse last year and a travel book," Lars mumbled, "They're both in my room somewhere."

"Once we get out of the hospital, can I see the horse?"

"No," Lars mumbled, "It's my horse. Nyah nyah nyah."

Ronaldo laughed, glad to see Lars had the strength to mock him still, "The ambulance should be here any second now, the hospital isn't that far after all."

"Right," the injured teen mumbled, blinking heavily.

Feeling a twist in his gut, Ronaldo gently flicked Lars' cheek, "Stay with me, alright? You can sleep at the hospital, alright?"

Lars was glancing with half interest at his stomach, seeing the dark red stain had spread across his shirt, "...damn that's gon' need cleaning..."

A feeling of dread was starting to creep up on Ronaldo as he felt the cloth was starting to soak through, and seeing some blood on the floor, and hissed through his teeth out of anxiety, wondering where the ambulance was.

Three minutes passing, Lars losing more blood and fighting to keep awake, and still no sirens audible, Ronaldo decided to take matters into his own hands. Lifting Lars up in both arms, still keeping his wound covered, Ronaldo took notice of the small blood puddle on the floor, making a mental note to clean that for Sadie later, and ran out of the store, and down the boardwalk in direction of the hospital as fast as he could go.

Lars was shaken awake by how hard and fast Ronaldo was running, and yelped, "WO-O-O-O-Oah! Wh-a-a-a-a-a-aaaat are you doing ma-a-a-an?"

"SAVING YOUR LIFE!", Ronaldo boomed dramatically, sprinting down the road.

"RON CALM DOWN!", Lars nearly screeched, clinging on for dear life, torso stinging horribly, but he was more terrified of getting dropped. He saw Ronaldo rush past a speeding vehicle, and yelled, "RON, AMBULANCE, YOU RAN PAST IT! STOP 'EM!"

Ronaldo yelped, and twisted on his feet, chasing after the ambulance, screaming at it to stop.

The driver had, on chance, peered out of the mirror, and saw a teen hysterically chasing after them, and rolled down the window, hearing them scream to stop.

"YOU TOOK TOO LONG!", Ronaldo screamed as the ambulance slowed down, "HELP HIM HERE!"

The driver pulled over, and paramedics got to work, rushing over to Lars with a stretcher, checking his vitals and putting fresh gauze on the wound, mumbling words to each other, and looked up at Ronaldo, "Are you immediate family of the patient?"

"I, uh-"

"Let him on," Lars winced as they started carrying the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, "He's got my phone and stuff."

"Alright," a lady paramedic sighed, telling Ronaldo to sit on the bench installed into the floor of the ambulance while they made sure the stretcher was secure, "...OK, Lars; is that your name?"

"Yes," the teen mumbled, energy shot already.

"I'm gonna need you to stay awake until we get a doctor checking on you, alright? You're doing a good job," the paramedic smiled, "So just keep it up for us. Do you go to school, Lars?"

"Y-yeah," he mumbled, "Beach City High School."

"My daughter graduated there two years ago!", she smiled, "What do you like to study at school?"

"History I guess," Lars mumbled.

"He's good at art," Ronaldo chimed in, "His stuff is on the art wall at school all the time."

Lars flushed with embarrassment, "Let me tell my stories here, aight, Ron?"

"Sorry," Ronaldo laughed softly.

"Oh, are you two friends?", the paramedic smiled.

"Sort of?", Ronaldo shrugged.

"Meh," Lars muttered, "We knew each other as kids more, small town and stuff. He just found me on accident," he admitted.

"Well you're lucky he found you!", she smiled, fastening an IV to Lars' arm, "Just keeping you with fluids, OK?"

"Will Lars have to describe the guy who stabbed him?", Ronaldo asked.

"That will be for the police, who we'll contact when Lars is all patched up at the hospital," the paramedic smiled, then looked at Lars, "You doin' alright there?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, blinking his eyes heavily again.

"That's good. Just stay awake, we're almost there," she assured, "You're doing great."

"Great at not dying?", he glanced at her.

"Yes! Very great!", she laughed, "You're going to pull through, I'm more than sure."

"OK," Lars sighed, giving a smirk of relief, and lifted his head up a little, "Ron? Can you call my mom for me when we get to the hospital? Tell her I'm OK an' stuff?"

"Sure thing," Ronaldo nodded, already texting his dad and Peedee to explain the situation, and told Peedee what to say to the police as he waited by the store, and to not be surprised by the blood behind the counter.

It was all a blur when they arrived at the hospital, Lars getting rushed into the ER, and a nurse calling for Dr. Maheswaran as the stretcher disappeared down the hallway, out of Ronaldo's sight.

The teen was left in the waiting room, calling Lars' mother as promised, having to remain calm as he explained the situation, the robbery, and the extent of Lars' injuries. She had insisted she would be there as fast as she could. But before she could hang up, Ronaldo piped up, "Lars wanted to say he's sorry for not letting Daisy in this afternoon," which managed to make her laugh out of relief.

Twenty minutes later, she had arrived, looking both calm and terrified at once, speaking with a nurse, who assured her Lars was getting treated, and that he was going to pull through. She slumped by Ronaldo in a chair, sighing, "Goodness, you've gotten tall! I remember when you and Lars were too short to see out the window."

"Oh yeah," Ronaldo laughed softly, "I think Lars was always going to be shorter than me though."

"Yes," she laughed, "It was a fluke he got as tall as he did though, both his father and I are very short!"

"Aw," Ronaldo snickered, imagining Lars towering over both his parents like a weed.

Ronaldo's phone chimed with a text from Peedee, _'Police are on their way to talk to Lars, is he OK?'_

 _'Doctors are still working, but he should be fine, he was able to keep conscious during the whole ambulance ride.'_

 _'OK, can I clean that blood up now?'_

 _'No! Evidence! Also I want to collect it for a DNA sample and see if Lars has any connection to snake people!'_

Ronaldo didn't know why Peedee didn't respond to that message. Maybe he was distracted? Oh well.

"Is Lars' friend Sadie alright?", Lars' mother asked Ronaldo.

"I think he said she had a doctor's appointment, so she wasn't even there," he admitted, "I should probably tell her what happened."

"Right," she nodded, and rubbed her forehead, "I never thought this would happen..."

"I don't think anyone did," Ronaldo admitted, biting the inside of his cheek. His family's business, as far as he was aware, had never dealt with something as serious as a robbery, or something where someone got hurt.

A middle aged woman in a white coat walked over to them, "Are you here for Lars Cheng?"

"Yes, I'm his mother," Mrs. Cheng stood up, patting Ronaldo's shoulder as if to make him rise.

"I'm Dr. Maheswaran," the doctor introduced herself, "Your son's alright," she assured, "He lost a lot of blood, and the lacerations were pretty deep, but he's very lucky no vital organs were harmed. We stitched up the wound, he'll need to take antibiotics for the next two weeks, and make sure it remains clean, and speaking as a mom myself, I'd tell him to take it easy until it heals."

"That will be such a challenge for him," Ronaldo muttered sarcastically, trying not to laugh.

"You'll be able to see him as soon as he is finished talking with the authorities regarding the robbery, and then hopefully by this evening, he'll be able to go home."

"Thank goodness," Mrs. Cheng mumbled.

"Also, speaking as someone with common sense, tell him if a burglar has a weapon, and wants your money, let him take the money," Dr. Maheswaran rolled her eyes, "He spent the whole time crying about how mad his co-worker would be about it."

"Oh god," Ronaldo wheezed, trying not to laugh at Lars' expense.

Mrs. Cheng nudged Ronaldo's arm, "You should probably call Sadie to-"

Ronaldo's phone was already ringing, and he stepped away to answer it.

"Ronaldo!", Sadie spoke quickly on the other line, "I tried calling Lars but he wouldn't pick up: why is there police cars outside the Big Donut? Your brother said for me to call you!"

"Oh uh...", Ronaldo tugged at his collar awkwardly, "You uh...better sit down-"

"What happened?", she nearly yelped.

"Uh, so short story of it; There was a robbery while Lars was closing up, he got stabbed and-"

" _Stabbed?_ ", she repeated, voice shrill.

"He's fine he's fine!", he rapidly assured, "The guy had a knife and took him by surprise, and tried to take the register-"

"Oh gosh," Sadie mumbled, "Where is he, is he ok? Oh, I knew I shouldn't have left him alone like that-"

"We're at the hospital, he's just answering questions for the police and stuff," Ronaldo explained, "You should come swing by and say hi, before Lars full out panics thinking you're mad about the money getting stolen."

"He's panicking over _that_?," Sadie groaned, "Yeah, I'll come by in a bit...and tell him to calm down!" and hung up.

After five minutes of eavesdropping on the conversation between Dr. Maheswaran and Lars' mother, a police officer approached the two, and thanked the doctor for allowing them to question the patient. The doctor then motioned for Ronaldo and Mrs. Cheng to follow her to the room Lars was in.

The teen was furiously swiping at the 'forward' button on his music player, headphones on his ears as he didn't even notice his mother or childhood friend enter the room.

Mrs. Cheng swept Lars into a tight hug, and he yelped in shock as she cried in Mandarin, " _My poor baby!"_

"M-Ma!", he yelped, and awkwardly returned the hug, pulling the headphones off his ears, " _God, I'm really sorry about all of this I-"_

" _Lars, it's alright,_ " she assured, " _You didn't know this would happen, nobody did!"_

" _I know,_ " he mumbled, then paused, " _...Did you let the dog in_?"

" _I did,_ " she laughed, " _Don't worry about it!_ "

"OK," he sighed, and looked to Ronaldo, "Do you want your bleedy shirt back, or nah?"

"Keep it," Ronaldo grimaced, and noticed Lars was still in a hospital gown, "So did they stitch you up? Nice big scar for later?"

"Oh it's gonna be great," Lars grinned wickedly, lifting the gown up, even as his mother told him to show some modesty.

"Sadie called by the way," Ronaldo informed.

Lars nearly dropped the gown in shock, "She did? What did she say? Is she mad about the cash register?"

"Not even close," Ronaldo rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall, "She's just relieved you're OK."

"But all that money from the day...", Lars began, face flushed.

"It was eight dollars," Sadie snorted as she marched in the room, "You nearly got yourself killed over eight dollars, Lars. The slowest day of the week, and you were so worried about losing our nonexistent profits."

Lars yelped, "Sadie!"

"Are you OK?", she asked, walking over, and reaching to hug him tightly, "I didn't think that would happen!"

"I didn't either!", Lars yelped, "I'm carryin' pepper spray next time, I swear!", he huffed.

Sadie gave a small laugh, and soon it was herself, Lars' mother, and Ronaldo acting as Lars' company for the rest of the evening until the doctors allowed him to be discharged.

"Well, I'm probably not gonna be back to work for another week," Lars huffed as he was helped into his mother's car, "You gonna be fine running the place on your own?"

"Yeah," Sadie assured, "If not, I'll drag Ronaldo in to help me."

"Great," he snorted, and waved, then glanced to Ronaldo, "Uh...thanks for uh...y'know, not letting me die I guess?"

"Of course," Ronaldo shrugged, "Granted, I don't think you would have. You have the pain tolerance of a video game character, I swear."

"True, true," Lars admitted, "But hey...do me a favor?"

"Wasn't saving your life enough?", Ronaldo pretended to look offended, then smiled, "Yeah, what?"

"Booby trap that register so crooks can't get into it, aight?"

"I see many issues with that-"

"Make it so Sadie and I can access it, but that if it detects a burglar, then it-"

" _Lars, calm down!_ ", his mother laughed, swatting his hair gently, and waved to Ronaldo as she drove away, leaving the teen in the parking lot.

Ronaldo was pretty certain that he'd saved Lars' life tonight, on chance.

He couldn't help but wonder if the other would ever possibly do the same for him.


	19. Swim

**Swim**

* * *

There was one reason Ronaldo hated going to the pool.

Well, actually two reasons, one of them being an embarrassing moment in childhood where he had his trunks pulled down when some kid snuck up behind him from underwater while he was wading in the shallow end.

The second reason was he couldn't actually swim. He preferred to stay in the shallow end of pools, or even more preferred, out of the water completely.

At the beginning of the summer, while the Big Donut was under renovation, Lars had been looking for a new job (at his parents' insistence), and since he was still banned from the video game store (in what Lars would only call 'The Pretzel Incident'), and the other stores, including Ronaldo's own business, were covered, he was willing to apply for anything within reason. When the pool mentioned they needed a lifeguard, Lars applied, and was then told he would have to take a test, to see how fast he could swim, and to prove he had CPR training.

All during that first week of summer, Ronaldo was dragged by Lars, with a stopwatch, to help the teen practice for his test at the end of the week. Ronaldo had a feeling Lars was just doing this to show off, especially since he knew better than anyone that Lars was a great swimmer, having gone to the pool most every day as a child in the summertime, and would still sporadically go nowadays. Not to mention his decency at surfing when the waves were big enough at the beach. Regardless, Lars insisted he needed to practice his swimming for sake of job security, and in his words 'to work out and keep my buff figure'.

By the second day of practice, Ronaldo was more than certain Lars was doing this to show off, because after every ten laps or so in the athletic pool, Lars would peek to see if any attractive women were around, hop out of the pool with a towel, and attempt to flirt by bragging about how he was training to be a lifeguard and totally save lives. The girls would usually show only partial interest, then leave, and Lars would continue the cycle, hoping he'd woo _somebody_.

Ronaldo kept track of his friend's swimming time, watching as he raced through the water, slapping his hand on the edge once he reached it, then using his foot to flip around and go back the other way. If Ronaldo remembered correctly by watching that one swimming anime ' _Unchained!_ ', the sort of swimming style Lars was using to propel himself off the pool walls was based off of otters. When Lars had gotten out of the pool for a break, Ronaldo had actually told him that, and Lars responded by telling him that he swam like a fat doomed baby seal. Ronaldo nearly whacked him with a pool noodle.

By the third day, Ronaldo didn't see much point in timing Lars anymore, he was getting faster as far as he could tell. At one point that afternoon, when Lars complained that Ronaldo wasn't using his stopwatch, Ronaldo decided to mess with him, and make up time records, some being faster and some being slower. When Lars caught on, he threatened to pull Ronaldo's shorts down, and was promptly pushed into the pool.

Day four, Ronaldo gave up timing Lars, and being tired of seeing his friend show off his swimming and brag to girls, decided to take an inflatable chair into the lazy river, and doze for the next three hours. He got horribly sunburned, and Lars teased him all while he sprayed him with aloe mist.

On the fifth day, Ronaldo had refused to go to the pool, and Lars begged, insisting he needed emotional support for his test later that afternoon, and at least wanted a swim buddy for the morning. Ronaldo was about to accept until Lars then called him 'Lobster Fries', and he promptly slammed the door. It took thirty four minutes of incessant whining outside his door for him to change his mind, but he insisted he was not getting anywhere near the water, and would be under a towel on a pool chair the entire time.

True, settling on that activity for the whole day wasn't proving to be very fun, but at least he was mostly safe from the sun, and completely dry. Even as Lars coaxed for him to come into the water to swim with him, he insisted he was fine steam-roasting on the chair. He decided he would then pretend not to hear anything when Lars called him a chicken. If his friend wanted to continue showing off his swimming, he was welcome to it, but there was no way he was getting in the water.

Then Lars had splashed him. What his arms lacked in power, they made up for in length and speed, and were able to send a decent mass of water onto Ronaldo.

"...You splashed me!", Ronaldo glared indignantly.

"You're wet now, so get in and swim with me!", Lars grinned wickedly, ready to send another splash over.

"Lars, I'm not going to-"

 _Splash!_

"Lars, that's-!"

 _Splash! Splash!_

"I mean it!"

 _Splashsplashsplashsplashsplash!_

"Okay, that's it, you're _dead_ ," Ronaldo growled, and leaped off the chair, chucking the towel aside, and not even bothering to tear off his shirt, ran to leap in the pool. Lars yelped, ceasing his taunting, and made a beeline to swim away as Ronaldo took a huge leap off the edge of the pool.

The dive might have been graceful if Ronaldo hadn't suddenly realized this wasn't the shallow end, and in his panic, he bellyflopped. Hard.

Slamming face first into the water with a resounding smack of a splash, Ronaldo was trying his best to figure out how exactly to get back above the water, not exactly ever having learned how.

Whoever said 'fat floats' was a complete and utter liar, he concluded before he started to panic, as he was already starting to sink, and began to flail wildly to try and get back up. He opened his mouth in an attempt to scream, and water immediately rushed in, and he struggled to breathe.

 _God, that was stupid. God, Lars is a jerk._

Right before he blacked out, he had felt arms looping around his under-arms, and starting to pull him up.

 _"Ronaldo? Ron! Ronnie!"_

When Ronaldo opened his eyes, everything was spinning, something was jostling him, and uncontrollably, he shot up, and started coughing up water, nose burning and eyes watering, "G-God!", he wheezed as he finally caught his breath.

A hand slapped his back lightly, "Good, you're not dead," Lars' voice breathed, almost sounding relieved, and Ronaldo turned to see him sitting by his side, on the edge of the pool, a lifeguard standing nearby.

"What, I-"

"You belly flopped in the deep end, and started wigging out under there, so I hauled you back up," Lars gestured to the pool behind him, "Good thing you weren't dead, otherwise I mighta have had to do the rest of the CPR test on you," he grimaced, then his cheeks flushed, "So uh, yeah, I kinda forgot you don't know how to swim."

"I literally told you that all this week," Ronaldo huffed, sitting up more, and swatting the back of his friend's head.

"Yeah, well I wasn't paying attention," Lars shrugged.

"As a lifeguard, shouldn't you be paying attention?", he then teased.

"I'll pay attention to if people are drowning, not to their complaining," Lars huffed, then glanced to the lifeguard standing nearby, "Uh, hi?"

"I've been seeing you do laps in the pool all week, you testing to be a lifeguard here or something?", the man smiled to Lars.

"Uh kind of? My test is today," Lars glanced at Ronaldo, then the pool.

"I've seen how fast you can go, not bad," the lifeguard nodded, "And I saw you pull your friend out of there. Nice rescue action there."

"Well uh, I don't think he was in any real danger," Lars admitted, cheeks red.

"Oh Lars, don't be modest," Ronaldo grinned smugly, poking his friend's shoulder.

"Had he been, regardless, you took the right course of action," the lifeguard told Lars, "I think it's safe to say you've passed the lifeguard test. Can you at least tell me the compression rate for CPR?"

"It's 100 beats a minute, 30 compressions, and 2 breaths, right?", Lars answered, having been capable of remembering that from when they did CPR in high school.

"That's right," the lifeguard nodded, and smiled, "You start work tomorrow morning. Bring sunscreen," and walked back to his post.

Lars was grinning at his success, looking forward to attracting ladies with his lifeguard status and his totally subtle but rippling muscles.

"Ronaldo," he turned to his friend, still smiling.

"Yes?"

He held his smile, and spoke cheerfully, "Do not _ever_ come to this pool so long as I am a lifeguard."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because if you drowned-"

"Awww, you care about me?" Ronaldo teased, cutting in.

"More like I'd have to perform CPR on you, and my mouth is most definitely not touchin' yours, capeesh?"

"What, you don't want to give me the kiss of life?", Ronaldo continued to tease.

"Frankly, I'd rather not," Lars muttered, face pink, and splashed Ronaldo a little with water he scooped from the pool, giving a snicker at Ronaldo's confused, but admittedly cute frown.

He'd never admit out loud he had felt legitimate fear pulling him out of the water just minutes before, afraid his own showing off and teasing would make him lose a friend again, potentially forever.


	20. Reunion

**Reunion**

 **Content warning: Contains mentions of sex**

* * *

"Are you sure you still want to go?", Ronaldo asked as he rummaged through his drawer for a clean pair of pants that weren't cargo shorts.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Lorelei rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, "We get free dinner and beer if we go, I'm not giving that opportunity up, especially not with everything getting catered."

She scooted around the other as he continued looking through his drawer, and she leaned over, glancing in, "Yuck. You need new clothes one of these days."

"Not my fault I'm comfortable with cargo shorts year round," Ronaldo shrugged, finding a pair of long khakis, and picked out a fresh button up shirt, "Blue or red?"

"Red," Lorelei pointed, and fixed the towel wrapped around her, "I still don't even really know what I'm gonna wear."

"Didn't you pick one of your dresses earlier?", he glanced at her.

"Yeah, but then I realized it makes my hips look too narrow and then that one button up is way too short, and my thighs show too much, and I don't wanna just go in a tshirt because then I might feel gross, and-", she groaned, cutting herself off, "I need another minute to look or something."

"Worried?", Ronaldo decided to ask.

"If people are going to judge me?", she glanced over as she opened the door to her side of their shared closet, "Nah. Most everyone going has a Facebook, and knows about me. They're pretty chill. Anyone else who doesn't know is either gonna be cool with it, or tasting my foot through their ass. And maybe your foot too."

Shortly before the two had moved out of Beach City together to Empire City to start a restaurant and life together, shortly after graduating high school, Lorelei had come out as transgender. And for the last several years, while working together with Ron to open their business and find success, she collected funds and saved money for the transitional procedures and therapies she felt most comfortable with going through. She did feel like there was some things she still wanted to accomplish, but overall, she was happy with where she was now, glad she had constant support through Ronaldo, who was more than willing to show affection and adoration towards her on less than positive days.

It had been Lorelei's idea that they attend their high school's ten year reunion, having received the invitation in the mail, and seeing the promise of a free meal, and the potential to see old friends, was quick to accept. Ronaldo was honestly quite indifferent, considering he didn't have too many friends in their class since Sadie was a year ahead of them and already out of the city anyway, it was an hour and a half drive, and if Lorelei hadn't voiced the desire to go, he wouldn't have bothered to RSVP. But here they were, slated to hit the road in about an hour, and they were still fussing to get dressed.

Lorelei finally pulled out a beachy styled blue and white sundress that tied around the back of the neck, putting on black leggings underneath, her nicer pair of sandals, and a long necklace of shells. Before she showed herself off to Ronaldo, she plopped in a chair by the vanity she'd furnished herself, and began to furiously brush out her long curled hair until it was styled as she liked, leaving the shaved half of her head bare. She tapped her cheek in thought, "Flower or no flower?"

Ronaldo turned around after buttoning his shirt to give a once-over, then pointed, "Flower."

Picking out a white hibiscus clip, Lorelei planted it right where the shaved side of her head met with her hair, attaching it close to her scalp. After carefully applying some makeup, and throwing the makeup containers in her bag, she glanced to Ronaldo, "...we should probably pack a carry on. I mean, if we're there late, I don't wanna be driving home at 1 in the morning, y'know? Let's just stay at a motel afterwards and go back home in the morning?"

"Sounds logical," Ronaldo nodded, then snickered, "You're not suggesting this just so we can fuck later without being too tired, right?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?", she smirked, and stood from her chair, "How do I look?"

"Beachy."

"Excuse me?", she raised an eyebrow, looking unamused.

"Beachy. I said _beachy_. Not bitchy," he explained, ''And beachy is a marvelous look on you if I do say so myself," he grinned, then walked over, "Think I should shave this fuzz on my face?"

Lorelei stood on her toes, giving a careful eye to her partner's face, giving his cheek a kiss, then smiled, "Hm. Nah, keep it. Feels good. Makes you look more like a rugged individual, and less like the Pillsbury Doughboy."

"Hey," he snorted, and kissed her on the mouth, and went to grab an extra set of clothes, "Should we take pajamas?"

"Why? We'd just rip them off eventually," Lorelei teased, but regardless, grabbed a nightshirt and sweatpants for herself in case it was a cold night.

Once Ronaldo had a bag of clothes packed, he rubbed his chin with his hand in thought, "OK, I think that about covers it. Are we ready to go then?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, and grabbed their keys. She was the only one who drove their car anywhere, since Ronaldo had yet to take his driving test, still renewing his learner's permit every few years.

After locking up their flat, they drove off to Beach City, the ride being quite uneventful aside from some stupid drivers, and Lorelei's frustrated honking at their actions.

"I bet everyone else has saggy boobs, and bald spots, and there we'll be, smokin' hot," Lorelei grinned to Ronaldo.

"Everyone will be that aged after ten years? You really think that?", he teased, "Besides, you're one to talk about bald, considering the left side of your head has no hair."

"Shaved. It's shaved," she grinned, "Gotta keep the legacy of the 'hawk."

He snorted, and playfully ruffled her hair until she whined, and swatted his arm, "Don't mess it up, it looks good as it is."

"Sorry, sorry," he laughed, then looked out the window, "Think anyone's gonna remember me at this thing?"

"No shit they will," Lorelei rolled her eyes, "You were the guy who did all the morning reports for senior year with the alien warnings-"

"Those are still valid," he cut in.

"Yeah yeah," she snickered, "And you took charge of all the investigative stuff around town that got into our school paper, you had your damn blog posted everywhere, you hosted the damn Paranormal Awareness club, and you basically made your appearance well known by how you NEVER changed your damn shirt or shorts all year-"

"I did too!", he frowned.

"Yeah, but never to another style of shirt. I mean, holy jeezus, you're wearing the same style of clothes again, the red shirt and khakis, and you've got your hair and glasses," she laughed, "Yeah, people are so gonna remember you. I'm probably gonna freak a couple people out if they're outta the loop though."

"Probably," Ronaldo admitted, "If anyone bothers you about it, you can-"

"Hey," she glanced to him, "Don't worry about it. If I need you, I'll grab your arm or something, and you can chuck someone into a wall."

"Alright," he smiled adoringly, and took her free hand, even as she groaned a little, and gave it a gentle kiss.

"Are you gonna let go of my hand?", she snorted, not making a move to pull it out of his own as he caressed it.

"Mm, give me a minute, alright?", he smiled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

He was so schmaltzy, it was both aggravating and comforting for her, to have someone who adored her as much as he did, even with their difficult history together growing up, he really did love her.

"Okayyy, let go of my hand," she sighed, wanting to focus back on driving as they got closer to the freeway, then gave a small snicker, "Think we'll run into Steven in town at some point?"

"Maybe," Ronaldo smiled, "Don't be mean to him though."

"What, me?", she spoke with innocence, "I let him style my hair for the first time after I grew it out, we'd be chill," she assured, flexing her wrist as she continued to drive.

"You whined about it the whole time though," Ronaldo recalled.

"I did no such thing," she stuck her tongue out, then looked at the freeway signs, "About five miles to go. Do I still look good?"

"You look fine," Ronaldo assured, fixing his hair in the rear view mirror, then frowned, "I should have brought my laptop, so I could give that presentation on-"

"Hon, it's a high school reunion, not a seminar, we're just gonna get drunk, laugh at any bald spots, and eat mini quiches and catered food," Lorelei teased, "Besides, knowing you, after one beer, you'd be unable to give the presentation."

"...OK that is true," he sighed, stretching his arms a bit once they got off the freeway, and onto the residential roads. After a bit more driving, they reached their old school, signs pasted everywhere to point to where the reunion was. After parking, and Ronaldo insisting they wrote where exactly it was they parked in case they forgot, Lorelei took his arm in her's, teasing that it was 'just so he didn't get himself lost', and they walked into the reunion, signing their names in the guest book, and fetching their nametags.

Upon seeing her birth name on the tag, Lorelei grabbed a sharpie from the table, and scribbled it out, writing her name out nice and clearly. Whoever was in charge of the nametags was clearly not keeping up to date on things, especially since there was tags left out for two students who were unfortunately deceased, and there was typos on other tags too.

"Do you recognize anyone here?", Ronaldo whispered to her.

"No, surprisingly, I don't," she snickered, putting her bag in care of the coat check, and grabbed his arm again, "I think I saw Kiki and Jenny's names on there, you were friends with Kiki right?"

"Er, kind of?", Ronaldo shrugged, "I mean, I just used her store's wi-fi sometimes, and then there was prom-"

Lorelei looked at him, "You went to prom with her?", she laughed.

"As friends!", he snorted, nudging her gently.

"Surrre," she teased, gently rubbing his arm.

"Well, who'd _you_ go with?"

"I never went, didn't ask anyone. I just went to the movies, then to a bar with a fake ID."

"Wow, what a rebel you were," Ronaldo smiled.

"Damn straight," she grinned, then huffed, "God I'm starved, I want to eat five quiches in one go, but I don't wanna talk to people with 'em all in my mouth."

"Well see if you can find the food before people start coming over and-"

"Oh my god, you guys!", an excitable voice cheered, and they looked over, seeing Jenny Pizza, looking energetic and free spirited as ever, "I haven't seen you two in forever!"

Before either of them could respond, Lorelei was getting crushed in an excitable hug, as Jenny squealed, "And oh my god, Loreleiii, you look so good! I've seen all your pictures on Facebook, but here you are, beautiful as hell!"

"Thanks," Lorelei laughed, catching her wind, and returning the hug, "Man, it really has been forever since I've seen you though. Did you grow out your hair or something?"

"Yeah," Jenny laughed, brushing the curls out of her face, "Got it curled up a bit too."

"And here I am, having not changed one bit," Ronaldo spoke, deadpanned.

Both ladies looked at him, and nodded, "Yeah, that's pretty much it," and Lorelei snickered, then saw Jenny's twin come over, and nearly wheezed, "Oh gosh, and Kiki _straightened_ her hair. Great, now I'm gonna get you two confused all day."

"Ronaldo, you have literally not aged," Kiki observed as she walked over, and then looked at Lorelei smiling, then looked at her tag, "Sorry they messed up your name tag. They messed up mine too. I keep telling them not to write Theodosia on the tag, and what to they do? They put it in even bigger font," she rolled her eyes, pointing to the edits she made on her tag.

"I didn't even know your name was Theodosia," Lorelei admitted, giving a laugh.

"Nobody really does, I've been going by Kiki forever," she smiled.

"Say, did Buck Dewey or Sour Cream come yet?"

"Sour Cream's stuck in Palm City," Jenny sighed, "He's booked solid on gigs, but he wants to try and visit Beach City sometime later. And Buck's probably still busy at the art museum."

"He an artist now or something?", Ronaldo asked.

"Curator," she explained, "He picks everything that goes into the museum."

"So theoretically if I sent in my paintings from college, I could potentially get them in the museum," Lorelei teased.

"Weren't those the paintings you did while you were high?", Ronaldo teased her.

"Yeah? And?", she smiled, deadpanned.

"So did you two come here together?", Kiki asked, "Or did you just meet up before coming here?"

"Uh...we _live_ together," Lorelei grinned.

Jenny grinned widely, "Oh. My. God. You two are together? How did I not know this? You're so cute together!"

"Eh, we've just neglected to tell people that much unless they ask," Ronaldo shrugged, wrapping an arm around his partner's waist.

"How long have you guys been dating?"

"Seven years, I think?", Lorelei shrugged, leaning against Ronaldo, patting his arm, then groaned as she looked over, "God, I see people brought old yearbooks to try and find people."

"Oh yeah," Kiki laughed softly, "I guess they wanna see who's changed the most."

"I think I win that contest," Lorelei joked.

Everything after that was kind of a blur, the two met more people, some more interested in talking to Ronaldo about his blog (which was still up and running!), and the fact he still looked the same way he did ten years earlier, or some were more interested in talking to Lorelei, over her restaurant, or awkward high school memories, how different she looked, how beautiful, and she conversed with an eased grin.

Occasionally, someone would ask Lorelei who she was, not recognizing her, and it would be a little awkward to explain it, but thankfully, everyone seemed to catch on with no trouble. There was one guy who didn't get it whatsoever, and Lorelei had to explain it a little more clearly, and even then, he didn't get it, so she decided it was better to leave the conversation before he actually started to annoy her.

Buck Dewey did end up coming to the reunion, a few hours late albeit, having traded in his oversized shirt for a snug turtleneck sweater, and tight black pants. Lorelei, having grown out of her debilitating anxieties around him, was able to carry a conversation with him, catching up with her old friend, who in turn, seemed more than a little surprised at how much she had changed. And somehow in the middle of the conversation, Ronaldo got involved, and soon he and Buck were intently discussing theories of the paranormal activity around the city, Buck explaining what had been happening while Ronaldo was away. It was quite amusing to see someone as relaxed as Buck being so fervent in a discussion, enough to rival Ronaldo's energy.

After a night of drinking, dining, dancing, and catching up, Lorelei and Ronaldo had decided to call it a night, steal a few more beers for later, and then drove to a motel. It only took a few minutes before they were on the bed, making out, clothes and hair getting pulled at, and small marks getting made on their skin by each other.

About two hours after checking in, they were both sweaty and exhausted under the covers, clothes scattered on the floor, and a pleasant silence filling the room. Lorelei had her arms wrapped around Ronaldo's broad shoulders, her face buried against his chest, and mumbled something.

"What was that?", Ronaldo asked, tilting her head up.

"Your chest is soft," she repeated, still sounding a little winded from their activities.

"So is yours," he teased, gently groping one of her breasts, and she snickered, kissing his face a few times before relaxing back in his arms with a sigh.

"I brought you pajama pants and a shirt if you need 'em," she reminded him, "I might grab my own if it gets too cold."

"Alright, thanks," he hummed, gently playing with one of Lorelei's gauges, "You have fun today?"

"Yeah," she mumbled softly, "Glad to see old friends and stuff. You look like you had fun talking with Buck," she laughed.

"We'll keep in touch," he assured, "He's a great asset, I have learned as of today."

"Oh good," Lorelei smiled, and nestled her cheek against her partner's chest again, "It...felt really nice to see people again today. Most everyone I talked to told me I looked good."

"Well, you do," Ronaldo smiled, kissing her nose, "You're beautiful."

"I know," she crinkled her nose at his kiss, and let one of her hands rest in his hair, "So you wanna try to find Steven tomorrow before we head home, and surprise him?"

"I'd like that," he smiled, hugging her lightly around the middle, "Let's try to get some sleep then?"

"Sounds good," she smiled, settling in his arms, feeling contently warm by his body.

Thanks to his habits of staying up late at night on his computer, Ronaldo took a longer time to fall asleep, but in the meantime, he watched Lorelei sleep, petting her hair lovingly and thinking about every time that day someone had told her how lovely she looked. _She was so beautiful every time she smiled, and she's beautiful now even._

At least once a day, Ronaldo would find himself telling Lorelei how beautiful he thought she was, and instead of saying 'thank you' she would say 'I know'. She knew he thought she was beautiful, and that he loved her so much.

It was a sign she trusted him more than anyone else, that she knew he loved her.

She hoped he knew that she loved him too, even if she didn't say it much.


	21. Torment

**Torment**

 **Content Warning: Contains violence, animal death**

* * *

There was a handful of things that Lars loved in the world. He loved spiced cider in the autumn, he loved loud music, he loved sleeping in, he loved cooking, he loved tea, he loved the few people he trusted, and he dearly, dearly loved his pet snake, Sugar. Even as she was getting on in her years, she still acted like a clownish baby, Lars thought, always playing on his hands, licking his face with her little tongue, snuggling around his arm, or on his lap, or nesting in his hoodie pocket for a nap. She escaped her cage so many times, Lars would not be surprised if he woke up with her on his chest, greeting him with a gentle touch on the nose. Some people had cats or dogs as their most treasured non-human friend. Lars had his snake.

There was also a near endless multitude of things that Lars absolutely despised. And one of them was bullies.

Growing up, he was frequently the target of older kids who loved to pick on him for his scrawny frame, his bright red hair, his complexion, and his inability to fight back. Sometimes he'd come home with scratches and bruises from the physical abuse, and sometimes he'd just come home in tears over the names he was called. Dirty awful horrible names that made him want to curl up under his bed with Sugar and hide forever. When he got older, some of the names didn't bother him as much, so kids would step up their game, and hurl out worse names, or even racial epithets and slurs that Lars was too ashamed and scared to tell his parents he received. He'd tell Sugar though, and she would react only with love for him.

When Lars got older, most kids found he wasn't even worth teasing, and instead just isolated him. There was, however, a select few kids who still would come around every so often to see how they could aggravate Lars, finding his temper was easy to ignite.

After Lars and Ronaldo's friendship had gotten back on track, Lars had found that he could hardly care about those people anymore, so whenever they came around, he'd shrug it off, or turn his music up louder, or walk away, or, if things got physical, threaten to call police. That usually shook them off.

There was one teen, Stanley, who was determined to get a rise out of Lars again, just for laughs. Having been targeting him since day one, he knew Lars had a pet snake, remembering that one science class where Lars brought her in as an extra credit project. When he made a joke about snake meat, Lars had shot him the dirtiest look possible, and Stanley had a pretty good idea of what could make that kid's fuse blow for the ultimate freak out.

After finding a dead garden snake on the road, flattened in the middle by a tire, Stanley took it home, giving it a quick taste of white spray paint, and glided off on his bike into town to find Lars and give him a sweet surprise.

Meanwhile, Lars and Ronaldo had been walking down a residential street, arguing over whether or not Ronaldo had seen a ghost in his fridge.

"Just look at these pictures I took last night!", Ronaldo pointed at the images on his phone, "You can see the ectoplasmic glow against the tub of cottage cheese!"

"That just looks like the fridge light," Lars countered, rolling his eyes.

"The fridge light isn't green."

"Well neither is that light."

"Squint! Just squint and you'll see the green!"

Stanley caught sight of Lars walking alongside Ronaldo Fryman, the town's local idiot, as Stanley considered him, always seeing him wandering around town with a camera, babbling on and on about the stupidest things. It would be fun to see that bumbling moron's reaction to this, Stanley thought.

Stanley whizzed past Lars on his bike, making a sharp u-turn, and hopping off, "Hey Lars!", he grinned obnoxiously.

Lars was about to shoulder past him when the teen pushed him back, to make him stay in place, and gave an unamused look, "I don't have time for this Stanley."

Ronaldo was standing back a couple feet away, watching, and a little confused on the matter.

Lars glanced at him with a look that said 'don't worry about it', and was about to walk forward again when Stanley stopped him again.

"Found your snake on the road!", Stanley sneered, and whipped out the piece of roadkill, dangling it by the tail, the flattened bloody middle getting inches away from Lars face.

Lars immediately screamed in horror as he saw the little animal, believing fully that this was his precious Sugar, dead in front of him. Stanley carelessly dropped it on the road, and Lars dropped to his knees, screaming again, "NO!", he let out a piercing wail.

Ronaldo stared in complete shock, seeing the broken look on his friend's face, and the cruel grin on the other teenager's face. Was this real?

Lars was already choking on weak, gasping sobs as he looked at the corpse on the ground, and grabbed the little squished animal, "Sugar-" he cried, "S-...", he paused, and saw the patches of green and black scales on the tail where the spray paint did not cover, and then the shape of the snout, and the overall size of the animal.

Stanley was trying to trick him.

Lars was just too relieved to be instantly furious, tears running down his face as he sobbed, "I-I really thought-"

The bully cackled madly with laughter, "Oh my god, I can't believe you fell for that! That's so fuckin' hilarious!", and he pointed at Ronaldo, who was staring blankly, looking like an idiot, "You should have fuckin' filmed that! Oh my god, he's a mess!", Stanley laughed, "That woulda been rich on TubeTube, Jesus Christ!", and began to mimic Lars' crying as mockingly as possible, all while the teen was still in tears on the ground, shaking.

"Ohhhhhh," Stanley fake cried, "My pooooor snake! My poor lil' snekky diiiiiie-"

The mocking was cut off by an enraged shriek, and the bully found himself body slammed onto the ground by someone twice his weight, and all the power of a linebacker thrown into it, and he screamed in terror as Ronaldo Fryman stared at him with a face of utmost rage, and sent a large fist straight into his nose.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?", Lars' friend roared as he drew his fist back before sending it back in with another powerful blow, "You're fucking SICK, you fucking piece of shit!", he yelled, driving his fist into the other's face again and again, blood starting to flow from their nose.

Lars gasped as he saw his friend on top of his tormentor, beating the everliving shit out of him, and froze in shock, dropping the corpse of the snake on the ground, "R-Ron-"

"I'LL FUCKING _KILL_ YOU!", Ronaldo declared, rage fiery and pure as he didn't even let up. When Stanley tried in vain to protect himself by grabbing at Ronaldo's arms, Ronaldo grabbed him by the throat, and slammed his head against the concrete once, and Stanley tried to scream for help. Ronaldo punched him straight in the teeth, and more blood was flowing. When he punched his nose again, there was a crunch, and then even more blood, and screaming.

Lars leaped up, terrified that this was going to end badly, and rushed over, "Ron, get OFF of him!", he screamed, and wailed, "YOU'RE GONNA MURDER HIM!"

"NO!" Ronaldo yelled, not letting up on his punches, "I WANT HIM DEAD!"

"RONNIE YOU'RE GONNA GET ARRESTED, STOPPIT PLEASE!", Lars begged, sobbing.

"I DON'T CARE!" Another punch. A few more, and Stanley's brain was probably gonna be on Ron's fist.

"HE'S NOT WORTH IT!", Lars screamed, on the edge of another full-out panic attack.

Ronaldo harshly threw the bully against the ground, and stood up quickly, glaring viciously at Lars, tears welling up in his eyes as he yelled in his face, " _YOU'RE_ WORTH IT!"

The following silence was so tense and heated as the two friends stared at each other, Ronaldo panting for breath as Lars looked at him with eyes wide in shock, tears and snot running down his face. Ronaldo's eyes were enraged, and dead serious.

Stanley, still alive, was pathetically crawling away, face beaten into a swollen bloody pulp that accurately mirrored the ugliness of his soul. He should have considered himself lucky that Ronaldo didn't finish him off with any more punches.

Lars managed to choke out, "I-I have to go home I-", he whimpered, and immediately turned around, not even finishing his sentence, and left Ronaldo standing there, blood on his hands, and a dead snake on the ground.

* * *

Ronaldo gave it a couple hours before he went to Lars' house to check on him. After all, he needed to wash that low-life's blood off his hands, and wash his own face, to clear his thoughts. Once his hands were clean, and his face was clear, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, looking in the mirror at himself.

The last time he'd shown such rage was during that incident in the lighthouse two years earlier, when he threw his now close friend into a monster's mouth, knowing it would probably kill him.

His own words rang in his head. _He's not worth it. He's not worth it._

Today he was worth it. Someone had caused him such great despair, and Ronaldo couldn't stand it, to see someone relishing in his pain, his grief, his horror.

The urge to kill was out of his system now, but Ronaldo didn't feel one ounce of regret.

When he reached Lars' house, the teen's older sister answered the door, and told Ronaldo that Lars hadn't left his room since he'd arrived home two hours ago.

Heading up the stairs, he saw the door was open a crack, and slowly opened it, "Lars?"

Lars was sat on his bed, gently letting Sugar slither around his hands, staring at her with weary eyes, and looked up, mumbling softly, "Hey."

"Hey," Ronaldo answered back, watching him, "...Sugar OK?"

"Yeah, she's fine," Lars mumbled, "She was always fine."

Ronaldo nodded, and took another step over, "...you OK?"

Lars paused before he answered, then spoke, "...Yeah. Just a little shaken up still."

"I bet...", Ronaldo admitted, "What that guy did was...really fucked up. You didn't deserve that."

"Yeah," Lars mumbled, gently rubbing his thumb along Sugar's side, then looked at Ronaldo, "Are _you_ OK?"

"...I almost killed that guy."

"Yeah," Lars nodded, looking at Sugar again, not up to saying whether or not he thought it was right that Ronaldo was so brutal.

Ronaldo took the silence as an opportunity to sit on the bed beside Lars, looking at Sugar. He knew Lars got nervous if people were staring at him, so he figured it would be better to focus his gaze on the snake.

Lars licked his lips, then spoke, voice cracked, "Did you...did you really mean that?"

"Killing him?", Ronaldo questioned, "I mean...well, I-"

"No...you...you said I was...", Lars trailed off.

"Worth it," Ronaldo finished, "Yes. Yes you were. You are."

Before Lars could even think of a response, Ronaldo scooted closer, pulling him into a one armed hug, keeping his arm around him.

"I'm holding Sugar. You don't like Sugar," Lars reminded him.

"It's OK," Ronaldo sighed, "For you, I don't dislike her as much as I would other snakes."

"Mm," Lars mumbled, and sank into the hug, his head resting against Ronaldo's warm chest, hearing his soft heartbeat, "I don't think I'll be taking her out on my shoulders anymore. She's getting pretty old," he admitted, watching her slowly move around his hands.

"How many years have you had her now?"

"Eleven and a half," he mumbled.

"Wow, time flies," Ronaldo gave a weak laugh, and cautiously raised a hand to run through Lars' hair.

Lars didn't protest to it, finding it comforting.

"Did you want to see my pictures again?", Ronaldo asked.

"Maybe later," Lars answered softly, "I kind of just want to lay down."

"Alright," Ronaldo answered softly, rubbing his back once, "...do you want me to stay?"

"...If you want..."

In less than ten minutes, Lars was curled on his bed, already lulling off to sleep for a short nap while Ronaldo sat beside him, acting as a pillow and guardian, keeping Sugar on his lap. For Lars, it was worth it.


	22. Athletics

**Athletics**

* * *

Mr. Fryman wasn't one to brag, but in high school, he'd been the star football player for the Beach City Belugas, his stature and strength having come to great use. He was proud to see that said stature and strength had been inherited by Ronaldo, but was incredibly frustrated to see his son not putting them to use outside of working in the shop when asked to. OK, he could understand maybe the boy wasn't a naturally sporty type, but he needed some way to stay in shape while blogging half the day away!

Ronaldo had complained when his father suggested for the fiftieth time that he try out for the school football team.

"I hate sports, dad!"

"Try not to think of it as sports! Think of it as quality exercise! Getting those Fryman family muscles moving and things!"

Eventually, after much pestering, Ronaldo finally agreed, only on the condition that his father let him purchase a new laptop at the end of the football season, if Ronaldo did so happen to get on the team.

Tryouts were as Ronaldo expected, meatheads and skinnybones' alike in hopes to be on the team. While waiting to be called out for the drills, Ronaldo pecked an angry blog rant on his phone about how stupid this all was, and grumbled as he momentarily put the phone away just to get through the tryout as fast as he could, punting the ball through the goalpost, tackling the dummy at maximum power, and going through all the running tests with a perpetual scowl, not noticing the impressed looks on the coaches' faces.

Ronaldo had sat back down on the bench, still typing on his phone, uninterested in any discussion on athletics, not noticing a late contender to the field.

Lars was profusely apologizing for being late to the tryouts, and looked relieved that he wasn't too late to actually try out.

Ronaldo looked up in time to see Lars promptly go down like a one winged duck, unable to send the ball to the goalpost, tackle the dummy, and trip during the running drill.

Lars was a sweaty mess by the time he was done, staggering over to the bench in time to scoff, "You tried out?"

"My dad made me."

"How did you do?", Lars cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't know, don't care," Ronaldo muttered, "Hopefully badly enough to not get picked."

The next day, Ronaldo hated himself for being athletically talented, something he discovered as soon as he saw his name on the list as a linebacker.

"I'm gonna have to go to those stupid practices almost every day GODAMMIT," he snapped, standing out among the excited students who were chosen for the team.

Lars was not on the list, and he was currently begging the coach to let him do anything for sake of athlete status. He wanted to impress the girls in his grade before it was too late.

Ronaldo had to admit, seeing Lars stamp out defeated in a beat up old whale costume made him feel much better.

"Whale whale whale what have we here?", he smiled smugly.

"I will _eat your face_ ," Lars growled murderously, the smiling whale face of the costume covering his deadly scowl.

"Why, Billy Beluga, where's your team spirit?", Ronaldo smiled.

"In my foot, which will soon be in your ass," Lars glared, flipping him off, the flipper on the costume covering his gesture, then grumbled, "I can't believe that you, of all people, got picked for the football team."

"Look, I'm not that thrilled either," Ronaldo huffed, "It's going to cut into quality blogging time."

"Wow, how terrible," Lars responded sarcastically, pulling the head of the mascot costume off, "At least you don't have to wear this old thing."

"You know you don't have to be the mascot, right?"

"Hey, I get to be on the field, and hit it up with cheerleaders at least," he shrugged.

"Yeah, but you also have to play it up with fans, especially little kids. And you hate little kids, right?", Ronaldo snickered.

"Egh, that's right," Lars grumbled, "...t's a sacrifice I'll have to make for sake of the cheerleaders."

"Poor baby," the other teased, and Lars punched him in the arm with a flipper.

* * *

Practices turned out to be as annoying and pointless as Ronaldo thought they would be. He'd bring his laptop and work on it while benched, and he'd only get up if the coaches said to. The things he did for family. Egh.

Sometimes, he would see Lars on the bench, watching the team practice, or, if the field was shared, the cheerleaders. Sometimes, he'd see the teen try to hit it up with the girls, but it would fail, and Lars would dejectedly wander back to the bench.

Eventually, their first game came up, and Ronaldo was more than a little annoyed with how much his father fussed about it, asking him if he needed more water, to adjust his contact lenses, new gel insoles for his shoes, thicker shoulderpads, if he needed to tie his hair back, or get a bigger helmet, and Ronaldo whined at him to just go back to the bleachers already. Peedee didn't look all that thrilled being there, in fact, he seemed quite infuriated at how the concession stands were selling fries at a disgraceful price, and with poor quality.

Once the stands were starting to get full, that's when the mascots of the two teams were to come out, and get the crowds pumped. Ronaldo couldn't help but snicker as he saw Lars charging across the bleachers, waving his flippers madly, and nearly tripping on some spectators. He then leaped over the fence separating the bleachers from the field, and ferried his goofing off over closer to the cheerleaders, in hopes he could perhaps impress them while incognito. Ladies loved a man in uniform, right?

Soon, after the opening ceremonies, and the national anthem (which Ronaldo was doing his best not to laugh during, seeing Lars unknowingly facing backwards since it was hard to see much out of that costume after wearing it for so long), the game was starting, and Ronaldo was on the field during kickoff.

The whole game of football in itself wasn't that bad, in fact, it was pretty easy, he found. Working in his family's shop for so many years had built up his stamina and his body power, so it didn't take much effort to make a tackle or rush for the goal. The annoyance came from how often the ball seemed to end up in his hands, making him run across the field, and whenever he made a tackle, he'd have to deal with his father yelling "THAT'S MY BOY!"

When he switched out with another player, he plopped on the bench where Lars was sitting, trying to admire the pretty girls through his costume.

"Having any luck?", Ronaldo teased him gently.

"I think I was deceived about the whole prospect of being a mascot," he grumbled, "The girls won't even talk to me. They said the whale's creepy."

"Well it is," Ronaldo sing-songed.

"I didn't think it was!", he whined, "I can barely see out of this thing, it smells like old underwear, and I'm roasting in it."

"Why don't you take the mask off?"

"And destroy my dignity?", Lars huffed.

"You think being in that thing is dignified?"

"No!", he groaned, "But I don't want everyone to know who's in this thing! I had to hug five kids before the game. FIVE. And one of them was Steven," he hissed, "If he knew it was me in here, I'd never live it down."

Ronaldo snickered again, and sighed, "I'm tempted to fake an injury to get out of this."

"And miss your chance with the girls?", Lars teased.

"I'll live," Ronaldo sighed, "You know I don't like girls much."

"Yeah yeah," Lars snickered.

"Fryman, we're almost done with second quarter, get back out there!", the coach shouted.

"Coming," he groaned, and got up, "Best of luck with the halftime," he called to Lars, heading back to the field.

* * *

Half time was a blur of disaster, from what Ronaldo spectated when he looked up from his phone. Apparently, the opposing team's mascot had decided to heckle 'Billy Beluga', and a fight broke out between the two. Lars was evidently no fighter, especially against the opposing teams' players who stepped up in defense of their own mascot. Lars was promptly 'kidnapped' and dragged off the field, kicking and screaming for help.

Lars didn't return for the end of the halftime show, and Ronaldo would just have to wait until the end of the game to see if the mascot was indeed still alive.

During the final quarter of the game, Ronaldo was poised to catch the ball that was thrown to him, but the pass was intercepted by an opposing player. He was ready to leave it up to another teammate to take care of it when he heard someone screech, "Oi! Ron!"

Looking over, he saw Billy Beluga, absolutely covered in concessions, soaked with Powerade, rolled in toilet paper, and one of the eyes missing, and with bare feet. Lars shouted through the costume, "That guy stole my shoes! KICK HIS ASS."

Not exactly sure why, Ronaldo obeyed rather quickly, charging after the player, and stopping him with an impressive tackle that would no doubt leave the jerk bruised.

When the final buzzer rang seconds later, Ronaldo felt himself getting gleefully tackled by his other teammates, and for once paid attention to the actual scoreboard, seeing their team had won by one point, victory having been secured by the tackle he performed.

"Woo! Go Fryman!", one of the quarterbacks cheered.

"Er...ah...yes...go me...," he mumbled, "Get off please," and as soon as he was allowed rushed to the locker room, more than eager to shuck off the shoulderpads and uniform.

As soon as he was back in his street clothes, and had his glasses back on (he hated contacts), he was ready to go back outside, only to see Lars just coming into the locker room, having been mercilessly hassled and hazed by the other team.

Not even acknowledging Ronaldo, he pulled the head off the costume, groaning, "FUCK this thing is humid," and scrubbed at his hair which was a frizzy, sweaty mess. There was a bruise on one of his cheeks, and he was bright red.

"Did you ever get your shoes back?", Ronaldo decided to get his attention.

Without even looking over, Lars huffed, "No."

"Too bad."

"I don't get it," Lars huffed, "It's obvious you hate being a football player, but everyone likes you, and I'm virtually bleeding myself to smile and get the crowd pumped, and I get nachos shoved up my ass- I mean well, the whale's ass."

"I don't get it either," Ronaldo sighed.

"I'm going to quit," Lars grumbled, "It's not worth it, potentially getting kidnapped every game."

"I want to quit too," Ronaldo admitted, "But my dad-"

"Why don't you just tell him you don't like football? I mean, if you tell him you didn't like this game at all, then maybe he'll finally be convinced?", Lars huffed, shucking off the costume, leaving him in his undershirt and shorts, red all over.

Ronaldo averted his gaze, not wanting to make his friend feel awkward about changing. Once Lars was back in his street clothes, he looked over, "Do you need a ride home?"

"Nah," Lars shook his head, "I've got my own car," and grabbed his bag, "Oh hey. Thanks for avenging me with that tackle, and for _saving the game_ I guess? I have no idea exactly what you did, and how, but I'll just pretend I'm friends with a star athlete."

"Past star athlete. I decided just now, I'm quitting," Ronaldo wheezed, "I can't handle the pressure of winning or losing a game like this!"

"...hey here's an idea," Lars mumbled.

"If you help me tell the coach I'm dumping the suit, I'll help you tell your dad you're dumping the uniform," he offered, for once no snark in his voice.

"...that would actually be great," Ronaldo sighed, and offered an arm out to his friend, who took it in his own, linking their elbows, "This way, good sir?"

"Thank you, good sir," Lars snickered, as they stepped out of the locker room, the distant cheers of the crowds still in the air, and the glow of Friday night lights shining on them both.


	23. First Time

**First Time**

 **Content Warning: Heavy sexual content, non explicit**

* * *

"I'm just...really glad you've got the place to yourself this weekend," Lars finally spoke after several minutes of having said nothing, having been staring at the ceiling above him in near disbelief while catching his breath. He'd have looked anywhere else, but the ceiling seemed to be the only place in this damn room without some hokey anime merchandise decorating it.

"Yeah, same," Ronaldo mumbled, reaching for his glasses, patting around his nightstand. Not finding them after a second, he decided to not worry about it, and settled back in the bed to keep comfortable, bare skin brushing against the other.

After a considerable amount of weeks dating, the two had slowly started to explore their relationship on a physical level. It had started with gentle kissing and touching, and after a few weeks it escalated to making out, then to groping, and finally, today, they silently decided to take things all the way, skipping past the foreplay boundary. They'd retreated to Ronaldo's room, knowing his family was out of the house until the following week.

Things had been very awkward at the beginning, with a lot of cursing, and fumbling, and trying to get clothes off, and figure out who would be doing what, and what would be comfortable for them both.

Lars was honestly surprised, the whole time, from foreplay to actual sex, Ronaldo had been significantly quiet. He expected someone who was loud and excitable with everything he did would be even more so in bed, but he was surprisingly suave, only talking to ask Lars if he should move faster, or slower, or give an occasional groan (which Lars found really attractive somehow).

On the other hand, Ronaldo was pleased to learn his partner was noisy. He wasn't that loud, per se, but he made the most delightful sounds, small whimpers and mewls of pleasure that made his chest tingle, moans of his name, and hushed, winded begging for Ronaldo to go faster. That was another thing, Ronaldo was surprised and giddy that Lars had been quick to let him top, having always expected Lars would insist on taking the lead. He'd ended up being submissive, but seemed to love it all the same.

One of Lars' hands was gently moving over Ronaldo's chest, and he stopped his fingers over bright red marks, and glanced up, asking with a voice incredibly soft, "Did I bite too hard?"

Ronaldo looked at him, then at the marks left on himself, then shook his head, "No no, not at all. I liked it."

"Oh, good," Lars mumbled, and pulled his hand off his partner's chest, and shifted slightly under the sheets. He liked how warm their bodies were together, but he felt strange laying in the bed without any clothes aside from socks (he had a thing about bare feet), and wondered if he should change back into his shorts or not.

Sliding a hand into his partner's bright red hair, Ronaldo pet it absentmindedly as he stared at the ceiling, "...when did you exactly decide to shave your head?", he asked out of curiosity.

Lars glanced at him again, and furrowed his brow in thought, "I think around the end of freshman year? I dunno. I was getting tired of my long hair."

"I see," he mumbled, running his fingers along the shaved part of Lars' head, feeling the soft downy fuzz of the hair slowly growing back since his last haircut. To experiment, he gave it a little kiss, smiling to himself as he felt the stubble on his lips. He gave another kiss and smiled again.

"Your hair smells great, what kind of shampoo do you use?"

"I make my own," Lars mumbled, reaching a hand to play with Ronaldo's curls.

"Make it, eh? How creative," he smirked softly, blinking dreamily as the other played with his hair.

"Mhm," he answered, "My ma showed me how to make some using honey and stuff, makes my hair less oily and everything."

"I can tell," Ronaldo sighed, "Mine's a rat's nest right now."

"Aw. It's not that bad," Lars snickered, "It's still got the curl to it," then glanced at him, "Is it even natural?"

"Of course it is," he snorted, "Fryman genes."

"You ever gonna cut it short or something?"

"I don't think so, I like it how it is," Ronaldo shrugged, his bare arm rubbing against Lars' skin, and he felt a desire to pull him into a cuddle. Lars didn't protest it, curling right into his arms. God, Ronaldo was warm, it was amazing.

"I'm gonna be honest," Lars began, "I never thought we'd ever end up doing this, y'know?"

"Yeah," Ronaldo responded, deciding to reach for his glasses again. Still not finding them, he decided not to worry again, "I mean, less than three years ago we weren't even speaking to each other."

"And then you tried to murder me-"

"Sacrifice," Ronaldo corrected.

"And now we just did well...this," Lars gestured to the two of them curled together on the bed in post coital bliss.

"Seems fitting we were each other's first-"

"Well, uh, about that-", Lars began.

Ronaldo glanced at him.

"Sadie was actually my first," he admitted.

"Oh."

"Yeah, uh...back in high school, she came over to my house to play video games, and we kind of got drunk and one thing sorta led to another," Lars admitted, "I don't even remember much of what happened. We were cool about it though," he sighed, and rolled over, "Sorry if that's a killjoy or anything?"

"What? Oh no, that's fine," Ronaldo laughed a little, hugging Lars tightly again, "So...was I a better lover than Sadie?"

"Oh my god," Lars wheezed, "I don't remember man. I was in high school! I bet it was just a bunch of me being a sweaty dead fish who flopped on top of her or somethin'."

"Well, was I at least good for you?"

"Fuck yes," he snickered, and rest his chin on Ronaldo's shoulder, still grinning. He leaned in to give a kiss to Ronaldo's ear when he paused and smiled, "Hey, do you have your phone? I wanted to show you a TubeTube video I found."

"Sure," Ronaldo smiled, reaching onto the floor for his pants, pulling out his phone, handing it to Lars, who began to scroll for the video.

Soon they were taking turns finding videos to show each other, laughing over the ones they enjoyed, and soon ended up watching LPs together, then amvs, then an episode of a terrible anime Ronaldo was hysterical over, and after that, an hour had passed since they had finished their activities together.

Lars was muffling his laughter against Ronaldo's shoulder, "Oh man," he breathed, and rolled so he was on top of Ronaldo, laying on his stomach, looking him in the face, "...You're actually pretty comfy like this."

"Well what can I say? Body fat is a plus for cuddles," Ronaldo grinned, squeezing Lars to his chest, looking him in the eyes. Smiling, he kissed him again on the lips, and held it there for what he had intended to be for a second, but Lars had melted into it so quickly, they kept it locked for a longer time, arms wrapping around each other.

One kiss turned to another kiss, and then to more passionate making out. And then they were grinding their hips, kisses becoming more hungry as their teeth occasionally clicked together, and their tongues were sliding into each other's mouths.

Bare skin rubbing on bare skin, the room became heated again as they found themselves settling on a second round.

This time was more straightforward than the last, since they were already naked, and they had become comfortable with each other's body, so their movements were less nervous, and the two were able to focus on pleasuring each other.

" _Ahh..._ ", was all Lars was able to say in response to Ronaldo asking him if he liked all the attention he was being showered with, trying to sound suave, but he just sounded cheesy. Lars loved it anyway.

The bed creaked exhaustively underneath them to their rhythm, gasps for air, whispered pleas to keep going, dirty talk, and the sound of one sucking on the other's skin filled the room until it all reached a crescendo, and they were caught in the throes of pleasure, tangled together.

After a minute to catch their breath, Lars spoke up softly, "I feel all sticky and gross," he admitted, "Can we shower?"

"You mean together?", Ronaldo glanced at him, "Will you wash my hair, and I can wash yours?"

"Yeah," Lars mumbled, giving his neck a gentle kiss, "If you want me to, I can tell you how to make your own shampoo."

"I'd love that," he cooed, and let his hand hang over the side of the bed, his fingers finally discovering the glasses that had fallen carelessly on the floor.

Once both had been cleaned, and hair washed, they'd returned to the bed, Lars insistent on changing the sheets so they were clean and fit to sleep on, and collapsed together on the mattress, content to sleep for the next ten hours.

They'd have to do this again sometime.


	24. Terms and Conditions

**Terms and Conditions**

* * *

"So...what do you say?"

Lars' hands had gone stiff in Ronaldo's larger hand, mind overflowing with a multitude of thoughts. His eyes were staring at his boyfriend's other hand, where a small box sat in his palm while he rested his hand on his knee.

When Ronaldo had first gotten off of the couch, and knelt down in front of him while he was watching TV, Lars initially thought it was to tie his shoe or something, or to pick up a discarded magazine on the floor. But when Ronaldo took his two hands in one of his own, he knew something was up.

Everything was going too fast, Lars couldn't properly make a response, and as he began to stutter, the hopeful smile on Ronaldo's face shrank, "You don't-...want it?"

"H-hey no, it's not that it's just...gimme a sec, aight?", he mumbled, having pulled a hand up to cover his mouth, breathing slowly into it, "I...OK, I'm gonna need...more than a second, ok? I need like...a couple hours."

"L-Lars, I-" Ronaldo looked at him, heart sinking a little.

"Don't worry...It's nothing bad, I promise," Lars spoke rapidly, and gave a weak smile, shakily trying to get up, "I just...I need to comprehend this and stuff...think stuff over. I-I'll be back," he mumbled, and sprinted past the man on the ground, heading out the door of their shared flat.

Ronaldo stared at the ring in his hand, then the door, and felt his stomach knot. That hadn't been the reaction he'd been expecting. He'd hoped Lars would have been ecstatic at seeing the ring. He'd done his best to make it as easy going as possible, no public gimmick, no fancy date, just the two of them doing what they liked to do best, cuddling and just keeping each other company.

He really hoped Lars would come back.

* * *

He really hadn't been thinking when he'd bought the ring. Well, he had, but it was of wishful hopes and dreaming about the future, the two of them together, and the look on Lars' face when he saw the box.

As he looked at the little ring that he placed on the desk, he wanted to kick himself. Of course. He should have known. Lars was anxious about being put on the spot, even in a private setting! When he saw that ring, he must have felt like he was stuck with an ultimatum.

For Ronaldo, the options would have been, either _we get married, or we don't and continue living as partners_. But in Lars' mind, it must have been, _commit to someone who I still have to work problems out with but I'm crazy in love with, or tell them no and lose them forever._

Ronaldo felt bad now, he wished he'd said up front that it was okay if Lars didn't want to get married now. He still loved him, and he didn't need to wear a ring to prove it. But it was just the sentiment part of it, to call him his own, to go through that whole ceremony, the vows, everything. Heck, they could skip any fancy reception or wedding, and have a marriage at city hall if that's what Lars wanted to do.

Maybe Lars would be fine with marriage once he thought over the financial benefits, the ability to be on the same insurance plan, to have the right to visit the other if they were hospitalized.

But they still had so many things in their life they hadn't discussed. Lars hardly ever talked about his parents, Ronaldo hadn't asked for any blessing, knowing Lars probably wouldn't heed it. They had been dating for well over nine years, living together for the last three, but was their tiny apartment the right place to start their new life together? And what about children? Ronaldo had thought of adoption in the late future, but was his lover going to be all too keen on parenthood? Would it cause a rift between them?

Ronaldo had to admit, in public it might be weird to address Lars as his husband, and vice versa. But then again, it had been weird for them to first address each other as a boyfriend when they first started going steady. Ronaldo had come out publicly when he was a teenager, but Lars only started telling people he was gay when he was about 23, deciding that after two years of dating Ronaldo, he was not just going through a phase.

Lars had said there was nothing to worry about when he'd left the apartment, but Ronaldo was listing off all the doubts Lars could be thinking over as reasons to not get married.

* * *

Lars wasn't thinking about those things at all. He'd already mentally decided on those things months in advance, in case Ronaldo decided to pop the question, or bring up marriage.

City hall would be just fine, weddings cost lots of money, and they really didn't belong to any specific church.

The financial benefits would be worth it. After a cancer scare two years ago, and an operation to remove a benign tumor near his thyroid, Lars knew it would be important to be on the same insurance plan as his lover if they wanted to help each other in times of crisis. He remembered the heartbreak on Ronaldo's face when a nurse insisted general visiting hours were over, and that he'd have to leave him in the hospital until the next day.

He was impartial to children, but if it made Ronaldo happy, then he could learn to be a decent parent.

He knew if he said no to Ronaldo's proposal, it wouldn't be taken too personally. They'd still be in love.

Lars was just afraid of hurting him again.

All throughout their time knowing each other, he'd been prime instigator for most of their spats, their rifts, and their problems. He had an antagonistic streak he was aware of, and loathed, but every time he tried to get past it, it only came back again.

He was sore tired of Ronaldo looking so hurt after their fights. Lars never meant any of what he said, he really didn't, but why was it so hard for him to say what he meant instead of hurtful things that he really didn't mean? Ronaldo was a cheerful person, and Lars felt disgusted with himself for being the reason he might not be cheery.

Ronaldo deserved better than him, and maybe he knew that, but he didn't care. He still loved Lars all the same. They were best friends of almost thirty years, lovers close to ten. The pluses grossly outweighed the minuses.

Returning to the apartment, seeing Ronaldo flat on his back on the couch, staring at the ceiling anxiously, Lars made his decision.

He'd accept, but only if he made himself accept the condition that if he instigate another fight, he would force himself into anger management and counseling two things he desperately had tried to avoid. He wouldn't tell Ronaldo about that now. He was already looking pretty shaken up over how Lars just up and left. He didn't need to hear the conditions, he just needed the straight answer.

"Ron? I've thought things over," Lars spoke up softly.

Ronaldo glanced over, putting his glasses back on his face, and swallowed dryly, "Yeah?"

Giving a playful look, Lars picked up the box, opening it to look at the ring, and gave a small snicker as he pulled it out.

"Help me fit this thing on my finger, will ya?"


	25. Godspeed Sucrose

**Godspeed Sucrose**

 **Content warning: Contains Animal Death**

* * *

Ronaldo found himself checking his phone for the third time that morning, wondering if Lars had since responded to his invitation of seeing the special feature of the whole Galaxy Wars saga at the theater that evening, and wanted somewhat of a quick response so he could plan ahead on hiding snacks for the theater.

Granted, considering it was mid morning, it was possible Lars was just busy at the Big Donut, though he doubted he would be so busy he wouldn't check his phone. Ronaldo knew as well as anyone how much that guy slacked off at work, and was usually texting or napping.

He could just very well be asleep, either at work, or in bed, not hearing his alarm going off at him, that was another possibility. He was the type of person to oversleep.

He was about to dial the number of the Big Donut when he received an incoming text message from Lars, and huffed, "Finally," and opened it, expecting a short yes or no.

 _Sugar is dead._

Ronaldo's breath stopped a second as he stared at the message in shock, feeling a sense of dread going up his spine as he instantly sensed the mood behind the text, and the reason for such the silence.

"Oh no," he groaned softly under his breath, knowing how dearly Lars cared about his pet snake, how devastated he was whenever she was sick, lost, or stolen by bullies, and he could only imagine the emotional turmoil happening right now.

 _I'll be right over_ , Ronaldo had texted without much thought. If it were anything else, he might have allowed Lars a little more space to grieve, but this was Sugar he was talking about. He'd been there when Lars had adopted her, and he figured it would only be fair to say farewell. The movies could wait.

Taking a well paced walk from the lighthouse to his friend's house, he found the door was unlocked, and invited himself in, knowing Lars' family was usually never home. Heading up the stairs, it was eerily quiet. He'd expected to at least hear some sniffling.

Lars' door was open, and Ronaldo peeked in, seeing his friend sat upright on his bed, staring at the wall ahead of him, strangely calm. When he turned his head to look at Ronaldo, the teen could see the drained emotion in Lars' eyes. Lars didn't say anything, and went back to staring at the wall after a second.

"Um...", Ronaldo began, and glanced over, seeing a bath towel was draped over Sugar's tank, covering it completely.

"I didn't want to look at her," Lars mumbled, voice cracked in his throat, "I just-"

"Can I look?" Ronaldo asked. Granted, it was probably a rude question, but after a short expression of confusion, Lars just rolled his shoulders, giving a consenting hum, averting his gaze completely away from the tank.

Ronaldo lifted the towel, seeing the white snake laying in her tank like he would normally see her. She wasn't moving at all, but she didn't _look_ dead. If anything, it looked nothing different than if she were to be asleep or sunning. It was only really obvious when he saw her eyes, and the lack of life in them, and the complete absence of her tongue flickering excitably like she always did.

Poor Lars must have found her like that this morning, not suspecting a thing.

"I'm...sure she didn't suffer-" Ronaldo began.

"I dunno," Lars spoke quietly, sounding empty, "She stopped eating. Guess she was sick or something." He then lay on the bed, curling on his side, facing away from the tank.

"You're not insinuating that you think it's your fault, are you?", Ronaldo looked at him.

"I don't know," Lars murmured, not even turning to look back.

Sighing, Ronaldo looked in the tank again at the lifeless animal, "...Are you going to bury her?"

"I don't want to think about it right now. I don't want to-" he began, voice going softer, "I don't want to have to touch her."

"...I see," Ronaldo nodded, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "...Want me to do it?"

"N-No, don't bury her, just-"

"How about I get her all prepared so you don't have to touch her?", he compromised.

"...OK," Lars mumbled.

"Do you have a shoebox?"

"No. No shoeboxes, I don't want her all coiled up and looking funny," he spoke, almost sounding worried.

Ronaldo sucked in his cheeks a moment as he thought, and looked around the room before getting an idea, "Be right back," he mumbled, and headed downstairs, rooting through the garage where a large stack of cardboard had been kept, and after a short bit of looking, managed to find a large poster tube. It was definitely long enough for Lars' snake to fit nose to tail, and Ronaldo had to wonder when on earth Lars' family would have used this poster tube in the first place.

Carrying it back upstairs, he grabbed a box cutter, and with careful precision, sliced it lengthwise to open like a coffin. He tested opening and closing it a few times, and looked at Lars, "Do you mind if I use some old rags to line this thing?"

Lars looked over for a split second, seeing the makeshift coffin Ronaldo had created, then shook his head, laying back on his side, "Go ahead," he mumbled, "But use the softest ones you find. Sugar likes soft stuff."

"Got it," Ronaldo assured, and after several minutes had the interior lined. At least she would have something comfortable.

Getting an idea, Ronaldo assured Lars that he'd be back, and hurried back to the lighthouse. He began to rifle through his drawers, looking for all of his jossed 'sneople' research, and looked for the piece that started it all, back to when he held his grudge against Sugar for what he believed was driving a wedge between himself and Lars. It seemed fitting that he honor her for sparking his continued interest in the paranormal happenings of their city. He found some old Polaroids he took of her when they were kids, and decided to take those too, figuring that if they weren't buried, Lars might like to keep them.

When he got back to Lars' house, the teen was still laying on his bed, eerily calm and quiet, so Ronaldo continued preparing for the burial. Ever so carefully, he lifted Sugar out of her cage, even telling Lars out loud that he was doing so. She was impossibly light in his hands, no instant coiling or squirming, hanging limp. He felt a little uneasy holding her for this long, but swallowed, and asked, "Want to pet her one more time before I put her in?"

"No," Lars mumbled, "Just do your thing."

Laying her in the coffin, he was careful to make sure she was not crooked, and set the research piece he did regarding her inside, tucking it under her gently.

He walked over, holding out the Polaroids, "Do you want to keep these, or do you want these buried?"

Peeking up, Lars looked at them, and took them, "I'll keep 'em."

"Alright," Ronaldo responded softly, and looked at the coffin, "I think that's about as much as I can offer to do. Is there anything you want to do?", he asked Lars.

Slowly, the teen got up, and walked over stiffly, looking at the modified poster tube with his snake resting inside, a little viewing window cut by her head. He paused in thought, then spoke up, "Flowers. She's gotta have flowers."

"Really?"

"She was sweet as pie, she would totally dig flowers," Lars insisted, and was heading downstairs towards the backdoor to his yard where some floral trees were situated, dangling over the fence of the rear neighbors.

Lars picked a multitude of brightly colored rhododendrons, hibiscus, and some other flowers he couldn't put a name too, along with cutting some potted geraniums his family grew, a few daisies, and some roses. He picked so many, he was using the bottom of his shirt as a pouch for them, walking past Ronaldo who had come down to see what he was doing, and went straight into his room.

Slowly, he began to systematically place the flowers inside the casket, going from below her head to the tip of her tail, and back again.

"While you're doing that, want me to dig?", Ronaldo offered.

"No, I'll do it," Lars mumbled, "I can do it by the rhododendrons or something."

"Alright," Ronaldo sighed, watching Lars work diligently on filling Sugar's resting place with flowers.

When he finished, and everything but her head was covered, Lars looked into her tank, and pulled out one of the little wooden toys he'd placed in there to crawl on, and placed it in the casket.

"Aight, I'm done," Lars spoke up, and Ronaldo came over to look, impressed at how elegantly Lars had situated everything, and how peaceful the little reptile looked.

"Alright, should we carry her down?"

"Yeah," he sighed, and hastily closed the casket lid over her, making sure he and Ronaldo lifted it at the same time to avoid anything sliding or getting jostled. Carefully carrying it downstairs, they took it out to the backyard, and gently set it in the grass near the rhododendron bushes, and Lars grabbed a trowel, starting to dig, not saying much.

"This sort of reminds me of when we gave my pet goldfish that viking funeral," Ronaldo piped up after a minute.

"Oh yeah," Lars spoke softly with a nod, "That was...a disaster."

"Yeah," Ronaldo laughed, "It smelled bad."

"No kidding," Lars muttered, carefully taking note of how deep he was digging, and how long the hole was, wanting to make sure Sugar's casket would fit without trouble.

After a little more silence, Lars got up, taking a step back, and dusting off his hands, "OK," and looked at the poster tube, face unreadable. Slowly, he sat down crosslegged next to it, and opened the lid, staying silent.

Sugar hadn't moved whatsoever in the time that they had brought her down and dug the hole. An errant daisy had jostled during the procession downstairs, and landed on her snout, and she hadn't reacted in the slightest.

Lars' eyes suddenly filled with tears, much to Ronaldo's surprise, and the blond sat down next to his friend whose face had crumpled as he held back a sob.

Gently putting a hand on Lars' shoulder, Ronaldo spoke up, "Hey."

"This is really it," he croaked, shuddering as a small sob came out of his throat, and he continued staring at Sugar, who lay peacefully in the flowerbed he'd made for her. "She's really gone."

"Yeah, I guess it really is," Ronaldo sighed, rubbing his friend's back, "It was a pretty good run for her though, wouldn't you say?"

Lars didn't respond, giving another sob as he let his tears fall on his cheeks, and off his nose and chin, his pent up grief coming out painfully.

After a minute of silence, Ronaldo then spoke again, "I did some fact finding earlier. Corn snakes' lifespans in captivity average about 6 years."

"Yeah?", Lars mumbled, giving a wet sniffle.

"Sugar was nearly _thirteen_ ," Ronaldo spoke with genuine amazement, "And even then, we don't know how old she was when you got her...so she could be at least fourteen..."

Lars was blinking away tears as Ronaldo continued, "You took that much amazing care of her, she had two lifetimes. She survived three attempted stompings, getting lost in the school, nearly getting sliced by a lawnmower, that emergency surgery to remove that marble...", he began to list, "And not once did she show complaint. She knew you loved her that much, she probably stayed until she knew she couldn't anymore." He hoped that this piece of information would make Lars feel less responsible for her passing.

Breath hitching, Lars shakily adjusted the daisy on Sugar's snout, and gently let his finger pet her head one more time, silently saying goodbye to her, thanking her for being a constant source of comfort and companionship.

"R-remember we always used to take her up into our treehouse?", Lars spoke, voice shaking as he tried not to cry again, "And we made her her own fortress?"

"Yeah," Ronaldo nodded, "I remember."

"And she always sat on your laptop if you left it in my room?"

"Yeah."

"And how she liked to try and reach for you if she was on my shoulders?"

"I remember that quite well," Ronaldo gave a small laugh, "She was quite antagonistic towards me."

"N-nah," Lars sniffled, "She loved you. She loved everybody."

"You're right," Ronaldo nodded, "She didn't have much of a mean bone in her body, did she?"

"No," Lars cried, "She was a good snake. The best snake ever."

"Indeed she was."

After a few minutes of silent tears being shed, Lars quietly closed the lid on the casket for the last time, and with Ronaldo's help, carefully set it in the ground, and began to bury it. He pat the dirt down gently, and paused in thought before he got up, and picked a few more flowers, putting them on the mound of earth. He stared at it for a bit, then gave a weak smile to Ronaldo.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and wiped his hands off on his pants, looking at his feet, "...I...think I'll be OK now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he smiled weakly, then slowly headed back to the house, and glanced back, "...you still wanna go to the movies? I'm down for it, I guess. I could use a little mindless sci-fi."

"Well one, it's not mindless," Ronaldo listed, "And two, we don't have time to sneak snacks, so are you willing to get overpriced movie theater food?"

"I'm cool with it," he shrugged, wiping his eyes again, and gave one last glance to the resting place of his dear scaly friend.

 _Thanks for sticking around so long. Lord knows I needed you then._

It would be several weeks after that afternoon when Lars went back out to visit her, on his birthday, speaking with the excitement of a proud pet parent as he held a new snake companion gifted to him by Ronaldo; Spice.


	26. Magical

**Magical**

 **Context: This is an AU drabble based on the anime Puella Magi Madoka Magica, so if you're not familiar with the series, this might be a little weird. In a nutshell, its really horrifying sad Sailor Moon haha**

* * *

If there was anything Lars had learned from this experience, it was to be very careful in choosing his wish, to think over his words, to make sure it was a wish that was worth the price he'd be paying. Upon staring into the soulless red eyes of the small white cat-like creature as it asked him what he would wish for, his utmost desire seemed to spill right off his lips.

 _I wish I was never lonely ever again._

God, it just sounded so stupid, so desperate, he thought, as he stared at the lilac colored gem resting in his palm. Its initial glow was dim, and small spots of darkness had sprinkled along its surface. In the past, no matter how much he'd try to get rid of them, rubbing at them with his fingernail, or using his shirt, they remained, seeming to be infused inside the glassy orb.

When he'd made his wish, after making a contract with the strange creature, everything in his life just seemed to get stranger. The following morning, Ronaldo had caught up with him, asking if they could talk, and discuss their tumultuous past, to see if their friendship could perhaps be repaired. Lars was initially excited, thinking this was the first step in his life changing for the better.

But the 'too-good-to-be-true' aspect seemed to stop right there. During the conversation with Ronaldo, Lars had brought up his strange encounter with the cat-thing the other evening, the wish he'd made, and all too quickly, Ronaldo was frantically asking to see the gem Lars had received, and upon seeing it, Ronaldo looked grim.

"You really have no idea what you just did, do you?", he'd asked, voice low.

* * *

And just like that, their friendship was forcibly back on track, and Lars found himself being apprentice to a veteran magical person, and soon Ronaldo devoted less time to his computer, and more time to showing Lars the world of magic and fighting wishes.

Lars had complained about the outfit he received upon transformation, not too keen on the fact it contained a skirt, but Ronaldo had teased him, saying it flaunted his figure well, and admitted he liked getting to fight while wearing a dress. Eventually they got used to it. Lars was quick to forget about the dress issue as soon as he discovered his weapon of choice, a sniper rifle that could extend to any size. Ronaldo had insisted he would need to be careful in using it, and that he should have picked something simpler to use, like his own sword and shield.

The veteran magical boy taught Lars how to fight witches, making it through their barriers, using their weapons with utmost skill and knowledge. It impressed Lars, to see his old friend using his 'nerd skills' to take down the creatures of evil and despair, and then collect their grief seeds to restore their gems' magic. It was sort of fascinating to first see Ronaldo's pumpkin orange gem regain its magnificent glow once it was exposed to the grief seed.

After a year of fighting alongside together, they discovered they weren't the only two magical contractees in their city. Their mutual friend Sadie had made a contract sometime before Lars ever did, and never bothered to tell them. After disclosing their status to her, she ended up joining them, and the three worked in tandem to collect grief seeds and restore their magic. Another boy, Kevin, insisted he'd been fighting witches long before Ronaldo, and was more than a little vain, but he ended up joining their witch hunts for a brief amount of time.

Briefly, because during the third group hunt, he'd been too cocky and his mint green gem was shattered by a powerful witch, Lars and Sadie both left to watch in horror as his lifeless body crumpled to the floor of the barrier, all magic attire fading away. Ronaldo watched grimly, but did not seem as shocked as his comrades, and had tiredly told the two to help him carry Kevin's body out of the barrier once the witch had been defeated.

Ronaldo then told the two the important facts about their gems: They contained their souls and their body was a husk to be controlled by them, and they should always be kept safe, so as not to shatter or get lost. He stressed the importance of using the grief seeds to restore their magic, and to never let them become fully tainted with despair.

Lars soon found himself keeping closer with Ronaldo than ever before, invested in keeping his soul gem bright and defeating as many witches as they could. He didn't fully understand the outcome of a gem turning fully dark, and he'd never actually asked Ronaldo. He'd end up learning the hard way almost another year later, when he was late in noticing how disillusioned Sadie had finally become with her wish of getting to do things as she liked without any interference, and her sky blue gem became cloudy and dark.

She had been sitting alone in her home when she began to drown in despair, and like any close friend would, Lars had gone to visit her, to see if she was alright, to ask her if she was going to join them on another witch hunt that night. She'd been skipping them as of recent.

Right as he had entered her basement, that was when he would be the first and only witness to seeing her transformation into something new and horrifying.

Ronaldo would be quick to join Lars in the new barrier as Lars sobbed hysterically for Sadie to come back, screaming at the manifestation her soul had become, a writhing pile of stuffed animals, clothes, trophies, machinery, and skeleton arms, a witch known in the magical world only by the runes 'BARBARA'.

When it came time to take out the witch, Ronaldo did it with no emotion, even as Lars screamed at him not to hurt Sadie. When he collected the grief seed, he'd offered it to Lars, insisting he would need it more than he did.

Sadie hadn't been careful enough, he'd said numbly. That they'd done her a favor by destroying her witch form while it was still new, so there was less suffering.

Lars had asked him how long he'd known about this. How magical girls and boys were destined to become witches.

Ronaldo admitted he'd always known, and that he'd taught himself to be numb to the emotional turmoil it all caused. And then promptly told Lars to use the grief seed to clean his gem before it got any more dark.

* * *

Hearing his name getting called out, Lars looked up to see Ronaldo approaching the park bench where he was seated.

"Did the fight go well?"

Ronaldo uncurled his closed hand, revealing a grief seed, "Does this answer your question? Go ahead and take it."

"Thanks," Lars mumbled, exposing it to his tainted gem, hardly reacting as it regained its violet shine. He stretched his legs, "I'll come on the next hunt."

"Sounds like a plan," Ronaldo sighed, "Want to hoof it to the arcade before it closes?"

"Maybe in a bit," he sighed, and stared at his soul gem, chewing on a thumbnail, "Do you ever think it's all gonna be over someday?"

"What do you mean?"

"That one day we'll just...stop this whole magic thing, and be able to do whatever we want and not worry about getting killed?"

"I don't know," Ronaldo sighed, "Even with all my years of this...I don't know."

"...Do you ever think about what's gonna happen if we...uh...well...if we lose all our magic and..."

"End up like Sadie?", Ronaldo asked blankly.

"...yeah," Lars mumbled. It had been three years since they lost her, and it still made his heart ache painfully. He looked at Ronaldo worriedly, "I don't want to become a witch."

"None of us do," Ronaldo sighed, fixing his glasses, "And so long as we work together, and keep each other safe...hopefully we never will have to become one. But I need you to promise me something; if I become a witch, I want you to be the one to take me out, understood? Don't hold back."

Swallowing hard, Lars mumbled, "Only if you promise the same." He figured that with how hard it was to keep his emotions in check, he'd end up transforming first, and had a feeling that Ronaldo would probably react with little emotion as he slayed him, judging by how empty he was for Sadie, Kevin, and every other witch they'd come across.

He wanted to go back in time to re-do his wish, to wish for Ronaldo to never have made that contract. He was sad to see how numb Ronaldo had become to feeling, his excitement muted. The teen insisted it was to prevent himself from falling to despair, but Lars wondered if it was really doing much to help.

"You never told me what your wish was," Lars then spoke up.

"It was nothing important," Ronaldo insisted, "I don't even think it came true."

"That's too bad," Lars sighed, and reached for a hand to hold.

"What about your wish. Did it come true?"

Giving a small, but genuine smile, Lars had looked him in the eye, "Yeah. It did."


	27. See You Again

**See You Again**

 **Context: Blind AU**

* * *

"Hey Ronaldo, do you ever talk to that one boy you used to hang around with? Lawrence?", his father tried to remember the name.

"Lars?", he corrected, "No, not really," he shrugged, not wanting to delve into their history, "Haven't seen him since we were kids. Why ask?"

"Just curious," Mr. Fryman shrugged as he checked the fryers again, then saw his son about ready to stroll out the door, "Mind handling the prep counter for an hour or two while I'm out?"

"Aw," Ronaldo whined, then sighed, "Yeah okay," and grabbed an apron. Even with every talk he gave his father about how he had no intent to continue in the family business, he would find himself getting roped into volunteering time in the back of the kitchen, or behind the restaurant peeling potatoes.

Thinking back to his father's curious question, Ronaldo had realized he really hadn't seen Lars whatsoever since they were kids. Their friendship crumbled after that stupid fight at the lighthouse in fifth grade, Lars ended up transferring middle schools halfway through sixth, and since then, Ronaldo hadn't seen hide nor hair of him, and he was left to assume that the boy had either moved, or he'd not noticed him in town at all.

After thirty minutes of peeling potatoes, Ronaldo was about to sneak away when he heard Peedee give a noise of surprise, and another voice give a yelp then a scolding noise, and then Peedee insisting it was alright.

Heading into the kitchen area to see what the trouble was, Ronaldo saw Peedee efficiently cleaning up a tipped carton of fries on the counter, laughing it off to the customer, who Ronaldo immediately took notice in, finding their red hair and facial features more than a little familiar.

"Tilly!", the customer had scolded a large chocolate brown and white malamute service dog pacing excitedly in their spot, and was whisking napkins out of the dispenser to try and clean, "Yeesh, sorry, she knows better than that."

"Don't worry about it, Lars," Peedee assured, "Guess she was just excited for fries."

"Lars?", Ronaldo spoke up aloud, walking over, "Is that you?"

"Who's that?", the customer spoke up, cocking his head in the direction of Ronaldo's voice, and when their eyes met, he didn't even react, "Who're you?"

"Uh, don't you recognize me at all?", Ronaldo huffed, offended, "The friend you dumped years ago? Did you really forget?"

"Ronaldo?", Lars' face twisted in annoyance, and he folded his arms, "No, I can't recognize you because I can't _see_ you, dummy."

Glancing at the folded cane under one of Lars' arms, and then the service harness on the dog, Ronaldo gulped, feeling his stomach twist at this revelation, "...oh...uh...I didn't know-"

"Course you wouldn't, I haven't run into you in ages," Lars snorted, "So where have you been hiding? Under a rock?"

"I should ask you the same", Ronaldo leered back, "I haven't seen you since middle school!"

"I've been around," Lars shrugged, giving a smug look, "What's your excuse?"

"I've been busy," Ronaldo sniffed, pushing his glasses up on his face, "Busy keeping the world updated about everything in Beach City, on my blog, Keep Beach City Weird. Perhaps you've heard of it, or read it?"

"I'm not much for visual media," Lars spoke with light sarcasm.

Ronaldo was about to retort when Peedee cut in, "Heyyyy, since you two are reacquainted, why don't you go and catch up, eh Ronaldo?", he smiled tightly, not wanting other customers to see their bickering.

Ronaldo looked at Lars, who was back to grabbing the fries he'd purchased, then sighed, "Fine." Maybe he'd get an apology out of Lars during this time. Or maybe he'd have time to tell him off. Who knows.

Lars clicked his tongue at Tilly, and the guide dog was back on her feet as he held onto her harness, keeping a short distance away from Ronaldo, "I'm just walking to the park so she can have a break," he explained, then glared, "And if you pet her, I will kick you in the head."

"I wasn't planning on that, goodness, you're still ornery," Ronaldo rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, when you have at least one person every day being an idiot who forgets the whole service thing and distracting your dog, you get a little cranky."

"...fair point," Ronaldo mumbled, and averted his gaze as if he was worried Lars was going to stare at him, even though he knew he couldn't, "...so...uh...it's been a while since I've seen you around. See you've got gauges now."

"Yeah," Lars rolled his shoulders, "I'm about ready to take 'em to a bigger size."

" _Can_ they get any bigger?"

Snorting Lars nodded, "Yeah, hopefully. Think they suit me?"

"I guess," Ronaldo shrugged, "I have no idea what fashion stages you went through for middle school, or high school, or after that."

"What about you? Still wearing socks and sandals?", Lars teased.

"Not even. I hate wearing socks now," Ronaldo grimaced, "Gives me blisters."

"Ah," he hummed, "So I take it you don't work at your dad's place much, since I go there at least once a week and haven't run into you until now."

"Yeah...I spend a lot of time at the lighthouse."

"In the basement?"

"No, up on the top floor now. The basement got way too musty and dark. Plus I like overlooking all of the city from my office."

"Ah," Lars laughed a little.

"Why do you go to the fry shack anyway? I thought you hated fries."

"I do. But Tilly likes 'em, so on Fridays, if she's good, she gets some as a treat," then he wrinkled his nose, "But after her little stunt today, I don't know if she'll be getting any next week."

"Hey at least she didn't walk you into traffic," Ronaldo teased.

"Fair point," he shrugged, then turned his head in direction of Ronaldo, "You would just push me, anyway."

Sucking in his cheeks, Ronaldo muttered, "Yeah, probably. You were _kind of_ a jerk."

"...I know," Lars spoke plainly, "And I'm sorry for it. Probably should have established that earlier."

"Probably," Ronaldo sighed, "Well...I guess it's beneficial we've run into each other after all this time. You seem a lot... _different_ than from when we were kids."

"Yeah, losing sight is kind of a biggie," Lars snorted, and they reached the park, heading into the dog run area. Plopping on a bench, he undid Tilly's harness, and allowed her to run around a little, "After going through hell and back, I kinda stopped caring about what people were thinking of me. Wasn't really worth it."

"...what even happened?", he decided to ask, not really thinking if it might be a rude question, "I mean, your eyes?"

"Dunno. They just started getting bad in seventh grade, even with glasses and contacts. Doctors think it was some sort of nerve disorder, and I ended up having to miss sophomore year of high school so they could see if they could fix it with surgery and stuff. Didn't work, and now everything's so blurry, I can't even see my own hand by my face."

"Oh...um...I'm sorry-"

"Don't worry about it," Lars shrugged, "I'm handling myself fine. Got a job working in a restaurant in Charm City."

"Really?", Ronaldo relaxed on the bench, "That's...impressive," then sighed, "I took a year of community college, took some film classes, didn't get much out of them. I'm finding my time is better spent working on discovering what's causing everything weird in Beach City."

"Any leads?"

"Besides the Crystal Gems? No," Ronaldo sighed.

"Aw. Well, maybe it'll just take more research," Lars shrugged.

"You really think so?"

"No, but I'm in no place to tell you what might happen," he snorted, and whistled for Tilly, holding out a few fries in his hand. She promptly trotted over, and gobbled them down, and he pat her snout.

"You ever encounter the Crystal Gems in town?", Ronaldo then asked.

"Yeah," Lars 'tsk'ed, "The kid always follows me around."

"Steven?"

"Yeah," Lars laughed, "I can tell when he's coming because he has the loudest footsteps ever. I once let him feed Tilly some treats, so now he thinks he's my best friend on the planet or something," he cackled.

"Aw," Ronaldo smiled, "Yeah, he's a good kid. I've been hoping to make him my apprentice, to be on the lookout for the truth."

"Oh jeez, we don't need two of you," Lars snorted, patting Ronaldo's hand with his own, which was warm and hardened with calluses.

After a bit of comfortable silence, Lars stretched his feet, and sighed, "I better get moving to the bus station. My shift starts in two hours."

"Oh, ah, do you need help getting back-"

"Nah, I can manage," he smiled, and clicked for Tilly, putting her harness back on, "I guess I'll catch you around again?", he shrugged.

"Sure!", Ronaldo spoke with a bit of a strange quirk in his voice, feeling his face get a little warm. Shuffling on his feet, he offered, "If it would be more accessible for you...perhaps I could do more video logs instead of typed posts?"

"Eh, do what you want," he shrugged, "I've got text to speech stuff now. It's just called 'Keep Beach City Weird', right?", he smiled.

"Right!", he smiled excitably.

"Cool. I'll check it out," Lars smiled, "Aight...well...see ya," he waved, and without even asking Ronaldo if he wanted to follow him to the bus stop, he was on his way, letting his dog lead.

Ronaldo watched him get smaller and smaller in the distance, and looked at the hand Lars had touched. Things had really changed for the both of them, and while some changes didn't seem all that pleasant, it all seemed to be working out fine. He sort of wished he'd offered to get coffee with him some time, but he'd have to just wait until next time, and make sure he got his attention.

He decided he could manage to leave Fridays open to volunteer time at his dad's shop from now on.


	28. Snow Day

**Snow Day**

* * *

Ever since he was smaller, Ronaldo had been quite fond of the snow. It gave him an excuse to wear his favorite trench coat, or his camo vest, or his long cargo pants with all the nifty pockets. The way it covered everything made for good photography to put on his aesthetic blog. He liked being able to see his breath in front of his face, and being able to bury his face into the wooly muff of his coat. Not to mention, footprints were easier to find when they were imprinted in the snow. One year, he'd found the most impressive non-human prints he'd seen in years, and after following them, and wondering if they were the prints of an alien creature, he soon learned: every foot print that wasn't human wasn't going to be an alien, and 2. Bears lived in the woods of Beach City.

When the first big snow fall of the year came to Beach City, Ronaldo was pretty excited. All the businesses were closed, and aside from some residents wandering through the streets to examine the weather, it was nicely quiet and deserted.

After getting some pictures of the frozen, snow covered rides at Funland, he took a short beach walk, seeing frozen sheets of ice shifting on top of the low tide. After tossing a few slush balls in the ocean, Ronaldo got back onto the main road, admiring how everything remained near untouched. A car had evidently passed down the street earlier, the tire tracks getting covered by the falling snow, leaving faded lines.

God, could this weather get any more beautiful?

Ronaldo gave a friendly wave to Steven and his little friend Connie as they passed by with a sled, and he thought back to when he was a kid, and he would be eager to grab his own sled and take turns with Lars going down Brooding Hill.

Thinking of Lars, Ronaldo noticed he wasn't too far from his friend's street, and figured that since the Big Donut was closed, he'd either be out with one of his other friends and enjoying the weather, or at home, preparing for any unlucky passersby to get a face full of snow.

Brushing a few snowflakes off his glasses, Ronaldo headed down Waterman Street, and walked up towards Lars' house. As he got closer, he could hear the sound of a shovel getting dragged across the icy ground, and saw Lars grumpily stomping across his yard and onto the driveway, frustration evident as he plowed the shovel through the snowbank, and flinging it carelessly behind him.

Ronaldo yelped as he got a face full of snow, and nearly fell back onto his butt, "Hey!", he called out.

Lars whirled around, and saw his friend decked out head to toe in winter clothes, and huffed, "Didn't see you there."

"Evidently," Ronaldo rolled his eyes, cleaning off his glasses, "Whatcha doin' there?", he smiled smugly.

Lars made a face, "Thought I was gonna get to sleep in today, but nooooo, _'Why don't you do your old man a favor and shovel the walk, sport? Build up those muscles! Get some fresh air!'_ Ugh! Whatever!", he spat, muttering curses under his breath as he continued hauling piles of snow off the ground, "I fuckin' hate this weather," he stated.

"Really?", Ronaldo raised an eyebrow, "I love it."

"Of course you would," Lars huffed, and nearly slipped, yelping as his legs flew about every which way for at least nine seconds before he managed to steady himself, almost throwing the shovel in rage, "Too much snow, too fuckin' cold-"

"Well of course you'd be cold, you're not even wearing a hat!", Ronaldo pointed out, seeing his friend was only wearing a lightweight red jacket, "Don't you have any winter clothes?"

"I'm not going to look like a nerd just to shovel my walk!"

"Oh my god, you're really that determined," Ronaldo huffed, "I saw Buck Dewey wearing clown-pants worthy snow trousers on my way here, you're not under any social pressure, Lars."

Blushing brightly, Lars muttered, "I-I don't mean that!", and growled, "Y'know what? Fine. Be right back," and stamped inside for five minutes.

In that time, Ronaldo decided he could perhaps give Lars a hand with the walk, using the shovel to shove a large remainder of the snow into a sheet, pushing it into the street.

When Lars came back out, he was wearing a floppy 'Russian style' hat, a thick wooly scarf, and a flannel jacket much too big on his frame, and snow boots that looked ready to fall apart.

"Don't you look pwecious?", Ronaldo teased, cupping his own cheeks in his hands.

"I will stab you with icicles," Lars spat murderously, and grabbed the shovel.

"But in all seriousness, that looks much warmer than before," Ronaldo assured, then pointed out, "I helped with your walk."

Lars grumbled out a thank you, and was opening the garage door. As he opened it, a large sheet of snow fell off the roof, and onto the walk, and he gave a shriek of rage, "DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT!", he stomped around furiously, nearly slipping again. Once he let his rage out, he then grumbled, "My dad called me while I was inside. I guess I have to salt the driveway now too, and that means I have to shovel that!", he groaned, hating that he was the only one at home on a day like this.

"Have fun not slipping," Ronaldo shrugged, and sat on the porch step, watching his friend grab the road salt from the garage, and set it aside to shovel the walk once again, and then the driveway.

Soon growing bored just by watching Lars be a grump about chores, Ronaldo decided to pass the time, and made use of all the snow that was piled in Lars' front yard. With ease, he was rolling it into a large ball, even getting on his hands and knees to roll it around. Soon he was rolling another ball on top of it, then another. Giving a thoughtful hum, he shaped it all down until it was a skinnier looking snowman, and then added branch arms, pebble buttons and facial features, an old orange feather duster he stole from Lars' garage when the teen wasn't looking, and then fashioned the snowman into a likeness of his friend, using the duster as hair, some bendy twigs for the ears, a leaf as his 'shirt' design, and an angry frown made out of the pebbles.

"Hey Lars, look," he grinned smugly, "I made you."

Lars took one look at the snowman, and shot a death glare to Ronaldo, "You suck," and he finished salting the driveway. Without another word, he was in the yard, rolling large balls of snow, heaving to get them stacked on each other, cursing as one collapsed, and he re-did it, then went inside quickly, coming out with a large button up shirt that Ronaldo had left behind one time after a sleepover, put it on the snowman, then yanked leaves off of bushes for the hair, sticking it in the snowman's overly large head.

Right as Lars was about to snatch Ronaldo's glasses right off his face, the taller boy whined, "Hey, don't take those!"

"But it's for the snowman!", Lars insisted.

"That does not look like me."

"Yeah he does, he's large as shit and has fuckin' wild man hair."

"Still doesn't look like me."

"Well neither does yours! I'm not that short," Lars huffed.

"You are in comparison to me," Ronaldo teased, and watched his friend fashion a pair of glasses out of twigs, and stick it on the snowman before adding the final touches to the face. After another moment, Lars ran inside, then came back out after several seconds with a bag of potatoes, and dumped them all around the snowman he built.

"There, now it looks like you," he announced as Ronaldo began to laugh uncontrollably at the unexpected addition to the snowmen. He laughed even harder when Lars shoved one of the potatoes into the snow-Ronaldo's face to become a nose, but it just mutilated the rest of the features.

"Aww, you killed him," Ronaldo wheezed out in between peals of laughter.

"Well, damn," Lars huffed, and stood back to admire the 'masterpiece'.

"I think the ones I made when we were kids were better," he concluded, "We had access to food coloring and stuff."

"Oh yeah," Ronaldo snickered, "Snowman vampires every winter, that was our shtick."

"And then we had to stop because your dad didn't want us having bloody snowmen outside his restaurant," Lars laughed.

"That was pretty funny though," Ronaldo laughed, "Murder scenes to be expected every winter at the Fry Shack."

"Say, whatever happened to your sled?", Lars asked.

"I passed it down to Peedee," Ronaldo shrugged, "And hopefully since the Shack is closed today, he'll see time fit to use it."

"Aw dang, we totally could have used it," Lars joked.

"I think we're both too big for it," Ronaldo laughed, "That last winter before we uh...well...you know, neither of us could get down the hill on it."

"True," Lars sighed, then snickered, "A coupla years ago, Sadie and I grabbed baking sheets, and put cooking oil on them, and we whizzed down her street on them."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Nah, we lived," Lars grinned, then snickered again, "God, I think my mom still has pictures of us during our snow days from elementary school."

"You in your striped scarf? And dinosaur coat?"

"You in your 40+ scarves and shit? Man, you looked like a tick about to pop!"

"I could hardly move," Ronaldo recalled, "I think my dad was a little overprotective."

"A little?", Lars teased, and without another word, grabbed a handful of snow, and promptly planted it on Ronaldo's head, then fled for his life down the street, laughing hysterically.

Ronaldo chased after him, having scooped up a large amount of snow, and advanced on him too fast for Lars to escape. He tackled him, and dumped the snow all over him, and they both fell on top of each other into a snowbank, covering them both in snow, and leaving them both in hysterical laughter, shoving snow in each other's face until a neighbor's dog came over to them, and playfully pounced on them, licking their faces.

Thirty minutes later, they had both ditched their cold wet clothes in the laundry room to dry off, and Lars had prepared hot chocolate for Ronaldo, and tea for himself, sitting at the kitchen table to warm up.

After a few sips of tea, Lars laughed softly, "Oh hey wait a sec, lemme show you somethin'," and got up, leading him over to the sliding glass door that lead to the back yard, pointing out the window, "Ham experienced snow for the first time today," he snickered, pointing to a single paw print in the snow right below the door, the rest of the backyard pure and untouched.

"Oh jeez," Ronaldo laughed, "If that doesn't say 'nope' perfectly, I don't know what does," and he reached down to pet the fluffy black cat that was nestled contently on the heater. He glanced at Lars, "So do you still hate the snow?"

"I still hate having to shovel it," Lars rolled his eyes, and stretched out his back, and huffed, "Whoof, my hands are still cold."

Ronaldo promptly took Lars' hands in his own, and breathed all over them. Lars yelped, "Yuck, don't do that!", he shrieked, trying not to laugh, and his phone buzzed. Picking it up, he read the text, and smirked, "Steven's challenged me to a sledding contest. You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

"That we should round up the baking sheets and cooking oil?"

"Ronaldo, you are so intelligent," Lars crooned, and spoke with nostalgia in his voice, "The only thing more beautiful than a snow day is the chance to make children cry on a snow day."

"You are an evil man," Ronaldo spoke lowly, slapping a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I know," Lars smiled, and grabbed for his old striped scarf.

Sometimes it was nice to feel like a kid again.


	29. Halloween

**Halloween**

* * *

Halloween had always been Lars and Ronaldo's favorite holiday growing up, especially since it was a holiday that they could spend together, and not worry about fancy dinners, relatives coming over, or traveling out of town to visit family. They were allowed to celebrate it in a way they loved; getting to dress as scary as they wanted, and getting rewarded for it with candy.

Their first couple Halloweens together were a bit hard to remember, since they had been so small, as far back as preschool. Looking at pictures, they would see themselves in costumes their parents had picked out for them; Ronaldo being a pumpkin, and Lars a ghost, hiding shyly under his white sheet. They weren't spooky or scary in the least, but they certainly did look cute.

It was during those first few early years that they wouldn't exactly understand the reason they were getting led by their parents down their neighborhood streets at night, but certainly were happy to be together, and getting to pick out candy from so many houses. And since they were so small, and tended to tire out quicker than older kids, they didn't really get much candy.

It was when they were about six or seven that Halloween became an important holiday for them, a challenge for them to become the champion trick or treaters of all Beach City, and get enough candy to last for a lifetime, or three months, at the rate they scarfed it all down. They'd beg their parents to let them visit more houses than the years before, and effectively fill their sacks to the brim.

At age nine, they formulated a very well polished system for future trick or treating, mapping out all of the city, finding out which houses were the ones to visit first, the ones to skip, and the ones to be especially nice to if they offered more than one or two pieces of candy.

Age ten, they decided to add the factor of having creative costumes that went beyond the norm of ghosts or pumpkins or vampires. Ronaldo dressed as a mad scientist, and borrowed a metal cart from his dad's restaurant for Lars, his monster, to lie down on, and covered him with a sheet. When they arrived at houses, Lars would scare them by suddenly sitting up and revealing his terrifying monster makeup.

Sadly it really didn't do that much in getting them extra candy, most houses still enforcing the rule of everyone getting the same share of candy, and they were a little disappointed it didn't do much to help them.

Age eleven, they weren't speaking to each other. Ronaldo went trick or treating alone, and got lost, having to call his father from a house that was still awake at eleven PM, and Lars went to a party he was invited to, and fell into the apple bobbing tank, getting soaked and winding up with a cold.

After that, neither of them saw much enjoyment in Halloween as they did before. It just wasn't that fun anymore without a friend.

Age eighteen, they were getting their friendship on track again, and both had seemed to decide they were too old to trick or treat, deciding they could just watch bloody slasher flicks with Sadie and eat candy until they vomited. That was until Lars witnessed Steven working with his friend Connie and Ronaldo's little brother on a map of the city, and felt a rush of nostalgia, and a twinge of jealously when Steven had mentioned new houses offering good selections of candy.

Ronaldo would feel the same that Halloween evening as he rested his aching stomach from too much candy, only to see his brother returning with an impressive selection of candy that rivaled what he collected when he was young.

When both teenagers eyed full sized Kit-Kats and Kinder bars, candies they considered cream of the crop, they both silently agreed that the next year they would have to silently slip into whatever trick or treating group those kids had formed, and take advantage of it.

Age 19, posing as Steven's older brother, Lars managed to get himself at least half a bucket of candy with Ronaldo, who was trailing behind Peedee like an excitable duckling, ready to score big on the candy haul. They didn't end up getting as much as they did when they were kids, but they both agreed it was pretty fun, and both decided to let the next generation take their place as the trick or treating champions of Beach City.

For the next handful of years, they did a variation of activities on Halloween, be it movie nights, attending parties with a decent amount of candy and seasonal treats, a pumpkin chucking contest, or even making a haunted house out of the lighthouse to make some cash. That last one, when they were 24, ended up being a regret, especially with how Lars, the lead 'monster' of the house, ended up getting attacked more than a few times from spooked visitors, and when their supply of fake blood leaked, making a mess everywhere. Whatever cash they made didn't seem worth getting punched in the face or getting taunted.

Age 25 had been the year they decided to forgo any parties or celebrations, and spend a quiet night together, dinner and a scary movie, and then some. It was fine, since later that night, following a question, an answer, and some deep thought, they agreed that the next year was going to be exceptionally special.

That next shared October 31st, they held onto each other's hand as they filled out the papers given to them, and exchanged vows, deciding they wanted to spend the rest of their Halloweens, and the remaining days of the year, together.

As they walked out of city hall, not having let go of the other's hand, Lars had asked Ronaldo if this was their best Halloween yet.

Ronaldo agreed only on the condition that once they got home, they could get themselves sick on candy, and make that their official no-guest wedding reception.


	30. I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends

**I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends**

* * *

"Nervous?", Steven had nudged Lars as they stood behind the stage for Beach-a-Palooza.

"Yeah, Captain Obvious," he whispered back as he clung onto the guitar strap a little too tightly. He was nowhere near a master at playing this thing yet, even with lessons from Greg, so he picked something that would be fairly easy for him to learn to play. But that's not the part that made him nervous.

He just didn't want to embarrass himself with this. Maybe he should have stuck with something easy, like a magic act, but everyone had been pressuring him to do something like this. He'd initially wanted to strangle Steven when he told Buck, Jenny, and Sour Cream about his act idea, but when the three expressed their admiration, he figured he had nothing to lose. Sadie had told him it was a very heartfelt idea, and he decided that with everyone whose opinions he cared about out of the way, he could do this without too much embarrassment.

He just hoped this wouldn't embarrass who this act was for.

Less than two years ago, he and Ronaldo had decided to repair their friendship, and ever since, they'd been almost as inseparable as they had been when they were children. Lars was still pretty skeptical of all of his friend's research and theory tossing, but he had to admit, it was fun when he did decide to join the dork on his explorations, and wind up with muddy clothes, scrapes, or that amazing rush of adrenaline from fleeing danger and pursuing targets.

This last year, Lars knew, had been more than a little rough for his friend; family troubles, his father's business close to bankrupt, and to make things worse, a fire at the lighthouse that destroyed most of Ronaldo's work. Sure, like always, the guy was bouncing back, and being cheerful, but Lars could tell how he was really feeling sometimes. He'd try not to show he worried about him too much, but he really did.

Even as Ronaldo was on the stage right now, exuberant as ever as he gave his yearly presentation (which Lars usually riffed during his rehearsals), Lars couldn't help but sense his friend was feeling pretty low.

He'd decided to do this act, not just in the hopes it would cheer Ronaldo up, but that his friend would know he was willing to be there for him when things were rough. He'd screwed up several times before when they were kids, but this was different now. Lars was done caring what other people thought. If he wanted to perform for his friend, then he was damn well going to.

Ronaldo soon finished his presentation with a dramatic bow, and as the audience politely clapped, confused by the whole thing, he looked around, trying to see if Lars was in the audience. Not seeing him anywhere, Ronaldo was more than a little disappointed, especially since Lars had promised he'd be at Beach-a-Palooza.

As he dejectedly wheeled his whiteboard off the stage, Mr. Smiley announced the next act, "Performing for, I quote, 'the first time in his entire existence', give it up for...Lars!"

Ronaldo turned around, seeing Lars hopping up the steps of the stage to some supportive cheers by Steven, Sadie, and his three 'cool' friends. Lars got over to the microphone, and adjusting it, suddenly turned, pointing to stage left, where Ronaldo was standing, "Yo! Fryman! Get the hell back over here!"

The audience cackled, and Ronaldo flushed in confusion, wondering what Lars wanted, "Uh...alright?", and shuffled a few feet back onto the stage, so he was barely in sight of the audience.

"All the way! This is for you!"

Bright red, Ronaldo continued to stand there, almost feeling a little self conscious now, being put on the spot for reasons he didn't exactly know.

Lars sucked in his cheeks, and rolled his eyes, "Ok, anyway, like I said, this is for that guy right there, he's been one of my best friends since pre-school, not counting a hiatus-", he paused, then licked his lips, face flushed, "And I care about this guy. A lot."

A few audience members gave an 'awww', and Lars hid his blush, averting his gaze away from Ronaldo, praying that he wasn't too embarrassed by this.

"Also, sorry in advance, everyone, uh, I am not a singer by trade, so uh, if it's bad, just cover your ears and pretend it's OK..."

Ronaldo inched out a little further onto the stage. Lars was seriously going to sing him a song?

Taking a deep breath, Lars strummed through the opening chords of the song he'd been practicing at night, well until 2 AM with a flashlight illuminating the sheet music while he sat on his bed.

And as soon as Ronaldo recognized the tune, he held his breath in shock.

 _Fall is here, hear the yell_  
 _back to school, ring the bell_  
 _brand new shoes, walking blues_  
 _climb the fence, books and pens_  
 _I can tell that we are gonna be friends_  
 _I can tell that we are gonna be friends_

Ronaldo listened to his friend sing, and agreed with the earlier statement, yes, Lars was no singer, but at least he could carry the tune without much struggle, and he wasn't messing up on the simple chords. Even then, he didn't care. This song was for _him_!

Sadie was quietly recording the performance, watching Lars bravely play through the song, trying to show he wasn't scared at all, and that he wasn't going to be embarrassed about this. She did her best to zoom in on the parts where Ronaldo's smile seemed to grow, or he appeared overwhelmed.

Soon, Lars reached the bridge, and for once decided to flicker his gaze up at his friend, and seeing him look so touched, smiled himself, and felt a bit braver with his singing.

 _We don't notice any time pass_  
 _we don't notice anything_  
 _we sit side by side in every class_  
 _teacher thinks that I sound funny_  
 _but she likes the way you sing_

"Oh my god," Jenny nudged Sadie, "Ron's crying."

Ronaldo was clearly trying to hold back tears, still smiling with amazement. Lars didn't notice it, reaching the final verse of the song.

 _Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed_  
 _when silly thoughts go through my head_  
 _about the bugs and alphabet_  
 _and when I wake tomorrow I'll bet_  
 _that you and I will walk together again_  
 _I can tell that we are gonna be friends_  
 _Yes I can tell that we are gonna be friends._

When Lars finished the final chord, and looked up, he immediately saw approximately 200 pounds of weirdness and exuberant cheerfulness rushing right at him, and before he could even react, he was pulled into a tight hug.

The audience members were clapping and cheering and 'aw'-ing at the scene, and Lars' face turned bright red, and he thanked them all, and gave an awkward bow, shuffling offstage as Ronaldo still continued to hug him with one arm while Mr. Smiley complimented 'such a sweet act', and ushered on the next performer.

Ronaldo gave him another squeeze, wiping his eyes, "Oh my god," he breathed, trying to hold it in, "That was the nicest thing anyone's done for me, I-"

"You're not completely embarrassed?"

"Oh no, I am," Ronaldo assured, flicking Lars' guitar, "But at least it's for something done to make me happy. I mean, you've never performed before, and you did this for _me_!"

"Y-yeah, of course, man," Lars laughed, "Sorry I wasn't in the audience for your act though. I was backstage wiggin' out."

"Makes sense," he assured, as they regrouped with their mutual friends, getting compliments and platitudes and a bit of light teasing, and they all continued watching the rest of the acts.

When it was all over, and the teens were volunteering to help dismantle the stage, Ronaldo nudged Lars, "So what is your plan for next year? Another song?"

"I dunno. Maybe?", he shrugged.

"Well if you do...get some singing lessons, alright? As touched as I was by our friendship, my ears are not that touched by your voice," Ronaldo admitted, swatting Lars' hair.

Lars sputtered, and swatted Ronaldo back, "Why don't you sing then?"

"Ok, I will!", he announced, and inhaled a deep breath as if he was about to scream at the top of his lungs.

Before he could even get one note out, Lars had tackled him to the ground, leaving them both a cackling mess as the stars in the sky grew ever brighter.

* * *

 **So as you can see, this drabble was sort of a songfic based off of the title song by The White Stripes.**

 **And with that, I'd say this collection of drabbles is unofficially completed. I'd initially planned to only do 15, but I went double that number. I'll probably write more drabbles about these two in the future (but I might be taking a break from drabble writing since my life is getting busier right now), and either publish them independently, or I may add them to this collection if I see fit.**

 **But anyway, thank you for reading!**


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